


Wait for no man

by ThatOnePlatypus



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Gen, Heroes and Villains, Superpowers, villain AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2019-10-22 19:44:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17668898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOnePlatypus/pseuds/ThatOnePlatypus
Summary: In his defence, being a supervillain was supposed to be a one-time thing.Not, Tobirama thinks wryly as he finishes loading the contents of the vault into his bag, that the excuse would help any if he ever got caught. He can almost picture it, the jury staring at him in disbelief while he explains that, really, he didn’t mean to go this far, but really, is it his fault if everyone else is incompetent? He just caught up into it, your honour, he didn’t mean no harm.Yeah, that’s going to hold in court.(a.k.a the Villain!Tobirama AU)





	1. Flood the gates

**Author's Note:**

> No one asked for this AU, but here it is anyway. It's wholly self-indulgent, and not yet completely written, but I figured I'd share some of it anyway. It's been a long time coming, and I'm tired of seeing it gather the dust in my wip folder.
> 
> Title is based on the quote "Time and Tide wait for no man".

In his defence, being a supervillain was supposed to be a one-time thing.

Not, Tobirama thinks wryly as he finishes loading the contents of the vault into his bag, that the excuse would help any if he ever got caught. He can almost picture it, the jury staring at him in disbelief while he explains that, really, he didn’t mean to go this far, but _really_ , is it his fault if everyone else is incompetent? He just caught up into it, your honour, he didn’t mean no harm.

Yeah, that’s going to hold in court.

Of course, he has absolutely no intention of getting caught and dragged to court ever. But being a supervillain can also be a very tedious and boring job, and Tobirama’s mind likes to run away from him and invent ridiculous scenarios to keep itself entertained. It’s actually how he got into the supervillain business in the first place. The saying about idle minds has a lot of truth to it, where Tobirama’s concerned.

“ _Master Tide_ ,” Kagami’s voice breaks through his thoughts with a burst of static coming from his earpiece. Tobirama frowns, and makes a note to check for better technology later on. “ _We’ve got incoming._ ”

A glance at the clock has him frowning. A glance around at the now empty vault, and he adjusts his bag over his shoulder, frown turning into a scowl.

“They are _late._ ” He says, not quite hiding the disapproval in his voice.

In his ear, there’s a sound a lot like someone choking down laughter. He doesn’t comment on it, more interested in getting out.

For a second, he contemplates waiting a bit, just to see how things would play through if he gave time for the law enforcement or the heroes to arrive. Just a second, though, and then he shakes his head at his own foolishness and jumps though the hole that he used to get in in the first place. Villains much smarter than himself have gotten caught through this sort of dramatic hubris, and Tobirama doesn’t fancy himself falling for that trick. It would be rather humiliating.

“Dragon,” he calls, and knows even without seeing it that Kagami just straightened in his hiding place at the tone. It makes something like fondness curl inside of him. Foolish child. “Where are we at?”

“ _The police is two streets away, the hero Rockheart II is coming this way fast, and everything else is in place_ ,” Kagami reports dutifully, perhaps even with too much enthusiasm.

“Rockheart II?” Tobirama repeats, humming. “Non-person’s student, isn’t he?”

“ _Was, yes_ ,” Kagami says. “ _Obviously, since he’s a hero, he’s not under his tutelage any longer._ ”

“That doesn’t change the fact that Non-person taught him,” Tobirama says. “Or do you consider that you won’t be my student even once I’m done teaching you? Even if you become a hero?”

Kagami makes an affronted noise but doesn’t reply. He probably thinks that he’ll never get good enough for Tobirama to stop teaching him. Which is cute but foolish – and Tobirama is still too soft on all his students, and never dares to tell them that one day he won’t be a villain any more and they’ll surpass the master. It doesn’t hurt to let them dream.

The temptation to remain in the tunnel and see if Rockheart II is any better than his grandfather was, or than his teacher is, is strong. Non-person is one of the most prominent villains in Iwa, and his student – gone hero or not – must be skilled. Tobirama squashes it with a vengeance, and keeps his pace brisk. It takes barely a minute for him to reach the sewers, and from then on it’s child’s play to reach the place he and Kagami agreed on.

When he doesn’t see his student waiting for him in the dark, he frowns.

“Dragon,” he says.

“ _I’m coming, I’m coming_ ,” Kagami says, sounding slightly out of breath. There’s another burst of static, and then a quiet, “ _Whoops_.”

A second later, Kagami drops like a stone from the ceiling, and only avoids getting drenched in foul sewer liquid – Tobirama _refuses_ to call this waste _water_ – by falling right on top of him. Tobirama catches him around the legs and shoulders, and gives him his best unimpressed look. Kagami has the grace to look sheepish, but doesn’t look fully apologetic.

“Sorry, Master Tide,” he says, “Had to dodge some guy smoking weed in the corridor.”

That’s a better excuse than some _Torifu_ used, and certainly much better than that one time Danzo almost got them all caught because of a _cat_. A cat. Neither Tobirama nor anyone else that knows the story is ever going to let him forget about about it.

Still…

“Weed?” He says, and ignores Kagami’s yelp as he hoist him up on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “And you didn’t _smell_ him?”

“The whole building reeked of it,” Kagami whines. “How was I supposed to smell the difference between weed and _more_ weed?”

Tobirama hums but doesn’t reply, and Kagami abandons his attempts at squirming out of his hold. His student sags on his shoulder, crossing his arms – Tobirama can feel them on his back. He can just imagine the pout the teenager is currently sporting.

With the ease that comes from dealing with teenagers and children on an almost daily basis, Tobirama ignores him and marches on.

After all, pardon the pun, they aren’t at the end of the tunnel yet.

 

 

 

It’s always bewilderingly easy to shed Tide’s outfit, help Kagami out of Dragon’s own clothes, stash it all in the compartment hidden under the car’s floor carpet. It barely takes a full minute, and once the masks come off there’s no villain there any more. Just Tobirama Senju, ordinary science teacher, and Kagami Uchiha, one of the many high-school students he teaches to. It’s not even unusual for them to be seen together – Kagami happens to be his brother’s best friend’s little cousin, and everyone knows it.

Everyone is also under the impression that Tobirama regularly takes the boy out for remedial lessons. Which isn’t quite _untrue_ , but certainly not the full story.

Not that Tobirama intends for anyone to ever discover said full story. Kagami, just like every student Tobirama has and ever will have, is his responsibility. His to protect, his to teach, his to shield.

Perhaps the best way to do such would be to convince the boy to find another path, because villainy was never safe and never will be. However Kagami is stubborn. Tobirama had known the moment the boy had latched into him that he would never manage to make him let go. It hadn’t stopped him from trying, the first few months of their partnership. These days, though, he only tries half-heartedly and mostly as a joke.

“Well,” Kagami says, and stretches like a cat in the passenger seat, ignoring Tobirama’s pointed look at the safety belt, “That went well.”

“Safety belt,” Tobirama tells him, pointedly not starting the engine until his student huffs and buckles in. Then he turns the key in the contact, and replies to the comment, “A bit too well, if you want my opinion.”

“Sensei,” Kagami says, looking at him, “You think _every_ plan that we escape from goes too well.”

“Yes, because they do,” Tobirama says, tartly. “The moment we relax and become too self-assured, is the moment we get caught, Kagami.”

“I know that,” Kagami agrees easily, “But I still think we got out of this one really well.”

Tobirama has to admit the point, and that’s what has him worried. It _shouldn’t_ have gone so well. According to all of his calculations, and every plans he made from A to H, law enforcement should have showed up five minutes before they actually did. Plans H to O dealt with the very, _very_ real possibility of them reacting even faster, or a hero showing up unexpected.

The fact that they were late either means that law enforcement is getting _lax_ , or that there was another thing that they had to deal with. Or, more dangerous and cunning, they are trying to lull him into a false sense of security to make him slip up.

Given that he almost _waited_ for them proves that it could have worked.

Tobirama very much dislikes to admit it – but he’s not in the habit of lying to himself, so he does, if only to himself – not only is this fishy, but he’s getting _arrogant_. And that’s more dangerous to villains like him than any hero could ever be.

The thing is, this isn’t the first time something like this happens. In fact, it’s been happening more and more lately. Tobirama has been getting away more and more easily, these days, and he _knows_ that it’s through no improvement of his own. There just hasn’t been any _challenge_ to slow him down.

He frowns. Maybe it _is_ incompetence on the part of law enforcement and hero agencies, but he doubts it. If anything, they should be doing _better_ , should keep growing, should surpass his expectations.

“Could you check why the local agencies were too busy to respond to our robbery?” He asks Kagami. “I have a feeling we’re missing something.”

Kagami shrugs his assent, and takes his phone out of his pocket. A few moments, and he starts listing a few minor crimes in the southern part of the city that had the police apparently busy enough that they didn’t get the call until too late.

“Some guy tried to rob a convenience store, barely two blocks from here,” Kagami says, a bit dubiously. He pauses, reads a bit further, and adds with true bewilderment, “With a _knife_?”

“Tell me they caught him, otherwise I’m going to hang up my mask and become a police officer just to wipe them into shape,” Tobirama says, flatly.

“Of course they caught him,” Kagami says. “No casualty, not even property damage. Just a desperate guy going about getting some petty cash the wrong way. Probably won’t even get a very harsh sentence – he didn’t even try to hurt anyone.”

“His only redeeming trait, I suppose,” Tobirama says, pursing his lips.

“You’re a bit of a snob, sensei, no offence,” Kagami says with amusement. “Not everyone can be held to your standards of villainy and heroism.”

“It’s not _standards_ , it’s common sense!” Tobirama exclaims, frustrated. He adds, belatedly, sending a pointed look at his student, “Besides, you have no room to talk. I heard you comment on Bones, the other day.”

“He left an _hour long timer_!” Kagami exclaims, turning an incredulous look on him. “Tell me that wasn’t stupid!”

“I never said it wasn’t,” Tobirama says mildly, because it _was_ , an hour was way too long and left heroes way too much time to escape and disarm the bomb. Nonchalantly, he asks, “And what about what you said about that hero… Mindswap, wasn’t it?”

“He was wearing _spandex_ ,” Kagami sniffs, as if it was a personal offence, “and he tried to appeal to their _humanity_. How much more cliché can you get? Not to mention the fact that he didn’t even have the guts to-”

He pauses, stilling. Tobirama looks at him perfectly mildly, arching a brow. Kagami groans, and then buries his face in his hands.

“Oh my god,” he groans. “You’ve infected me. I’m becoming picky! Soon I’ll start lecturing both the heroes and the other villains on the _proper_ and _efficient_ way to do things!” He turns up his nose and sniffs in what Tobirama assumes is supposed to be a mockery of him, and drawls, “Well, it’s not with such _su_ _bp_ _ar_ equipment that you are going to catch _anyone_. I’m insulted you thought it would be sufficient to catch a _rat_ , let alone _me_.”

Tobirama would be more offended if he hadn’t actually given that exact same speech to that one stupid hero, Ocean. And if that hero hadn’t actually _deserved_ the tongue lashing. For fuck’s sake, he had tried to catch him with an old fashioned _net_. A net! Not even an electrified one, or something a bit more resistant than a perfectly normal fishing net.

Besides, once more Kagami has no leg to stand on, given that he had been ranting in his ear during the whole incident on the stupidity of trying to catch ‘Master Tide’ with something as ‘common’ and ‘ineffective’ as a net.

Speaking of which…

“We need to change communication devices,” he tells his student, cutting through what would no doubt be another direct quote of one of his ‘lectures’. “There was too much static every time you spoke up.”

“Really?” That derails Kagami effectively, and the boy frowns. “Odd. The distance wasn’t that great, and there weren’t enough obstacles to really impede anything. _I_ heard no static.”

“Maybe it’s just mine which are malfunctioning,” Tobirama says, which is unfortunately a possibility. His powers aren’t well suited to most technology, which is why he has to develop his own. Or let his students do it, in this case. He absently digs his earbud out of his pocket, and drops it into Kagami’s palm. “Here, see if you can find anything wrong with it.”

“I’ll look at it the moment I’m home,” Kagami promises, even as he starts inspecting the small device critically.

Tobirama hums his thanks, and keeps driving. It’s early enough that he could drop Kagami off at his house, and then have some time to read.

Or to plot his next plan.

Something bigger, and flashier, this time. Destructive. To see if his doubts about law enforcement are founded or not.

After all, it’s also possible that they just aren’t taking him as seriously as they used to any more.

That won’t do.

 

 

 

Big and flashy, although it seems to be in the job description for both villains and heroes, isn’t in Tobirama’s nature. He can be dramatic, but frankly it’s more his students’ area of expertise than his – teenagers find drama everywhere, even where there should be none to be found. He much prefers the simple and direct approaches to the grand, convoluted ones, likes sharp and dry quips more than he does long inspiring speeches.

Which is one of the many reasons no one is ever going to look at Tide, and think that he really is Tobirama Senju.

No one is ever going to look at the supervillain wearing blue and red colours and _fur_ over stylized body-armour, and make the connection with that one high-school teacher that wears proper, boring clothes. No one is ever going to see Tide smirking and taunting people, and think that he could be the quiet and almost standoffish guy that lives down the street.

The only common point that could clue people in is the hair. But in a country where people are born with naturally _pink_ or _green_ hair, Tobirama doesn’t have the monopoly on silver – in fact, it’s getting almost common.

Tide and him are so different, Tobirama thinks with amusement and a tiny bit of annoyance, that his own _brother_ doesn’t recognize him.

That, or Hashirama legitimately doesn’t believe Tobirama could be a villain.

The plant hero, Lignum, sends a flurry of vines and roots after him, and Tobirama scoffs as he evades the predictable move. It’s learned behaviour, at this point, to put a slight twirl to his movements, to act more gracefully and lightly than Tobirama Senju ever would, to smirk in the face of relentless attacks and mock the heroes from a perch safely out of reach.

“Is that all you have?” He calls, cocking his head to the side mockingly. His voice comes out deeper, slightly strange with the usual modulator. “Did you really expect such an attack _wood_ work?”

In his ear, he hears Danzo snort and then cover it up with a painfully fake cough.

Lignum makes a noise that is half-frustration and half-anger, and shoots after him on wooden pillars. Tobirama jumps off, whirling out of the way and using the branches to get away – not lingering enough for the vines to catch him.

He can still hear his student clearing his throat through the communication device.

“ _That was an easy one, Master Tide,_ ” Danzo comments, once he has regained some of his composure. Adds, after a beat. “ _Not a very good one either._ ”

Tobirama rolls his eyes, hidden from view by his mask – visor, really, since it’s see-through and technological, but its purpose _is_ to hide his identity more than anything else. Really, his students are _worse_ than him, when it comes to making inappropriately bad puns in the heat of battle.

They should be glad he’s even partaking in such a stupid contest. Puns do not come to him naturally – unlike to Kagami, who can make a dozen fire puns in under a minute if left unchecked.

If Tobirama hadn’t lost that bet…

Well. No use in crying over spilled milk.

He’s a bit too busy to care about it much at the moment, as well.

Hashirama – and really, even if he hadn’t stolen a copy of all the heroes files in the government office a year ago, and if Hashirama hadn’t confessed to being a hero two seconds after becoming one, he would have known that _Lignum_ was his brother on sight – makes an unnecessary gesture, a grand move of his arms, and sends _more_ plants after him. Tobirama wants to roll his eyes again. He might do the same when fighting in public, all sweeping hands and dramatic moves, but it’s all for his image and the sake of his cover.

Hashirama, though? He knows his brother. The dork does it earnestly, because he thinks it helps in controlling his powers and because he was genuinely born theatrical – and his friendship with the Uchiha helped nothing in that matter.

“Stop moving!” His brother calls after him, as if that has ever worked before. Then, painfully earnest, “Why are you doing this? Why are you hurting innocent people?”

“ _And here we go again,_ ” Danzo mutters in his ear, sounding exasperated. “ _Don’t they ever learn that it doesn’t work?_ ”

Privately, Tobirama agrees. Everyone always mocks villains for monologuing, but frankly heroes do it just as often. They just call it ‘inspiring speeches’ instead of monologues. Not that it makes much of a difference.

Unfortunately, while he would much rather stay silent and let his silence speak for itself, and hopefully discourage heroes from jabbering at him, he can’t do that. Especially not in front of his brother. So he simply smirks at Hashirama, who stands away from him surrounded by plant life, and replies.

“Innocent? I wouldn’t go that far,” he says, casual but mocking. A branch shoots at him like a whip, and he carelessly dodges out of the way. Through the visor he can see the unmasked part of his brother’s face tighten in frustration. His smirk widens, despite the fact that he wants to tut at his brother – really, Hashirama should be better than that – and he adds, deliberately dismissive. “Might want to work on your aim, _Lignum_.”

“What do you mean?” Hashir- _Lignum_ calls to him, frowning. “About them not being innocent?”

Tobirama scoffs, unable to stop himself. They make it _so easy_ , really.

“ _Master Tide, careful,_ ” Danzo reminds him. “ _No lecturing your brother about listening to villains._ ”

Damn his student, he has a point. Tobirama wants to scowl – because really, this is a farce at best, and Hashirama is so painfully naive in points that he just wants to shake him and try to instil some good sense in him. Of course, that would result in his brother knowing immediately who he is.

Tobirama is very much _not_ ready to face that particular demon, so he tilts his head and hums. Time for some bullshitting.

“Ah, but what is innocence?” He asks wryly. “Are _you_ innocent? Am I? Is _anyone_ truly innocent?”

“ _Oh my gods,_ _Master Tide,_ ” Danzo makes a disgusted noise in his ear. “ _Philosophy, really?_ ”

“Well, it works,” he murmurs with some reluctant amusement, watching as Hashi- _Lignum_ grows even more frustrated once he understands that he’s being made fun of. “How far along are we?”

“ _Almost there,_ ” Danzo reports faithfully. “ _Another thirty seconds, at most_.”

“Good work,” he praises quietly, and then lets himself fall to the side, coincidentally dodging the vines that were trying to creep up on him.

He twists mid-air, grabs onto one branch that is trying to whack him, and flips further away. A vegetal tendril grazes at his mask, and he grins, a baring of teeth, when he realizes that he’s starting to get surrounded. Hashirama has been leading him towards a corner, overwhelming everything else with vegetation. Subtle it is not, but again people with his brother’s powers don’t often need it.

Tobirama is perfectly aware that in terms of sheer capacity and power, let alone stamina, his brother surpasses him. Hashirama was always the powerful one in the family.

“ _Done!_ ” Danzo exclaims in his ear. “ _All yours, Master!_ ”

Tobirama hums in thanks, and looks at his brother. Ha- _Lignum_ looks less frustrated now, certain that he has him. His confusion when Tobirama smirks at him easily is a beautiful thing. Hashirama always makes a truly hilarious confused face.

“Oh my, you have me _cornered_ , it seems,” he says, tuning out Danzo’s groan. As if the teenager wouldn’t be ten times more dramatic and wordy in his place. “Shame.” Then, because messing with Hashirama is a guilty pleasure of his, he adds. “Your plants look a bit wilted there, Lignum.”

Hashirama, bless his heart, looks at his plants quizzically even as he makes them move to restrain him. Tobirama wants to laugh, and does so. Which probably makes his brother suspicious. But not enough. Never enough.

“How about we give them some water?”

Hashirama understands what he’s going to do a second too late. His plants surge forward to restrain him, others growing thickly to protect their creator – and every window and cracks in the ground erupt into water, flooding the entire area. A sharp chop of his hand has a wave washing away every damn vine, tendril and piece of wood that were moving towards him, and another forces a veritable torrent down on Lignum and the remaining police forces.

The hero has no other choice than to use his powers to protect both himself and everyone else, and Tobirama huffs as he rides the wave up and away, heading to the river that is coincidentally nearby – no one even noticed he was leading them in that direction.

Tobirama drops into the water, letting go of everything else. Helping the current a little is a simple matter, and Tobirama smiles as the water tugs him along, away from his brother and everyone else.

“ _Everything good?_ ” Danzo asks.

“It went perfectly,” Tobirama says, satisfied. Meeting his brother out there wasn’t exactly expected but… It was fun. They see too little of each other outside of family dinners, these days. “On your hand?”

“ _They still haven’t realized I sabotaged the water pressure in the pipes,_ ” Danzo says. “ _It shouldn’t be long, though._ ” He adds, hesitantly. “ _We might not be able to pull that trick again._ ”

“Nonsense,” Tobirama says. “A city cannot possibly cut the water supply out completely.”

Besides, he thinks with smug satisfaction, even if they did, there’s rivers everywhere, sewers and more sources. It’s not as though he’s out of tricks. Far from it.

“What about Dragon and Breakthrough?” Tobirama asks.

“ _Safely back at HQ,_ ” Danzo replies dutifully. “ _Ran into a small spot of trouble, but nothing important. Do you want me to connect them through?_ ”

“Might as well,” Tobirama agrees.

Underwater as he is, he’d be surprised if the police or heroes managed to pick up their frequencies. A small burst of static fizzles in his ear, before Kagami and Torifu’s voices greet him in tandem.

“ _Master Tide!_ ”

“Dragon, Breakthrough,” Tobirama greets back, unable to help a tiny smile. “How was your end of things?”

“ _Everything went fine,_ ” Torifu replies, “ _The distraction worked as intended. No one even realized we had sneaked in._ ”

“That’s good,” Tobirama says. “Root told me you ran into trouble?”

“ _Damn it, Root,_ ” Kagami hisses, and then with forced innocence. “ _It wasn’t anything important!_ ”

“ _Dragon melted through a vent without meaning to, and knocked out a guard accidentally when it fell down,_ ” Torifu immediately throws his friend under the bus.

“ _Breakthrough!_ ” Kagami gasps. “ _Betrayal! Deception! I’m surrounded by traitors! See if_ _I ever cover for you again!_ ”

“ _You say that like sen- erm, Master Tide wouldn’t have found out on his own anyway,_ ” Torifu says.

There is a very telling beat of silence, before the sound of Danzo clearing his throat comes through.

“ _He has a point,_ ” he tells Kagami.

“ _Shut up,_ ” Kagami says, audibly pouting.

“Children,” Tobirama sighs. “Squabble on your own time. I take it everything was put back as it should?”

“ _It was,_ ” Torifu says.

“ _Piece of cake,_ ” Kagami agrees. “ _The objective was rather simple to recover, too._ ” His voice brightens. “ _What about you, sensei?_ ”

Tobirama clears his throat meaningfully.

“ _Um, right, Master Tide,_ ” Kagami corrects sheepishly.

“Everything went well,” Tobirama reports. He looks at the waterproof bag that is still tied to his hip, snug under his armour. “I managed to get the samples from the lab with none the wiser, before moving to the distraction.”

“ _The southern main way is still flooded, as is the old hospital,_ ” Danzo dutifully reports, mostly for the sake of Kagami and Torifu. “ _The police and heroes on scene are helping the rescue effort. Casu_ _a_ _lties are few – some injuries, mostly in the force as everyone was evacuated, one civilian shipped to the hospital with haste, mostly property damages._ ”

“ _Huh,_ ” Torifu says, puzzled, “ _You showed a lot of restraint, Master Tide._ ”

“ _Trust me, there was no restraint,_ ” Danzo snorts, like the little snitch he is. “ _Lignum was simply there to prevent most of the injuries. He did cause a fair amount of damage himself, though._ ”

“ _Ah,_ ” Torifu says.

“ _Probably was the plan, though, wasn’t it?_ ” Kagami says faithfully – and that’s why he’s Tobirama’s favourite.

“It was,” Tobirama agrees.

Technically, the plan intended for more damage, even, since he had actually counted on another hero to show up. But in the end, the objectives were met. He and his students got what they set out to get, he got to wreck some havoc on the city, got a nice fight out of it, and even a family bonding moment.

All in all, Tobirama is rather happy with it. What a fruitful day.

“I think this calls for some celebration.” He says. “Dinner. My treat.”

His students erupt into cheering in his ears. Tobirama listens with only half his attention as they start firing suggestions, only for Danzo to start denouncing Kagami’s tastes in spice. As the excited cheering devolves into petty squabbling, Tobirama thinks back on the fight.

It had been rather exhilarating, if short and marred by the fact that he didn’t put his all into it – it was intended to be a diversion and nothing more. Hashirama’s power has always been incredible, and fighting against him gave Tobirama more of a thrill than many of his stunts have lately.

Maybe he shouldn’t hope for a rematch, but a part of him, forever bored and in quest of action, yearns for it.

Another part also yearns to punch his brother square in the face, the perfect vengeance for all those times where Hashirama was too busy chasing dreams to spend time with him.

Tobirama hums, distractedly agreeing to Torifu’s sensible offer to get sushi, mind already miles away and plotting. Danzo is worried for nothing – the heroes think they are getting wise to his tricks, but Tobirama has still a vast supplies of them. And even if he were to fall short, well.

Hashirama may be the powerful one, in their family. But Tobirama was always the smart one.

He’ll invent new tricks.


	2. Don't make waves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, another chapter, so soon? I know. Don't get used to it, it just so happens that I had this pre-written and decided to post it now.  
> It might be a certain bun's fault, as well.

The teacher’s lounge is hardly Tobirama’s favourite place to grade papers. It’s often noisy, sometimes even crowded. He much prefers his office.

Unfortunately, with three of the walls utterly wrecked and a broken window, Tobirama’s office is currently out of service.

Which means he has to sit at a shitty table, in a room that reeks of coffee, with the awful background sounds of his colleagues chatting. Some of them are watching the news on the small screen in a corner – not loudly, but still just noisy enough that Tobirama can feel a headache rising as the presenter drones about the advancements of a small research company up north.

Maybe he should have tried to find an empty classroom instead.

His phone suddenly buzzes. Tobirama fishes it out of his pocket, checking the screen. Touka’s name appears, complete with a little devil emoji, and underneath a simple text.

_Family dinner tonight, don’t be late!_

Tobirama makes a face at the screen, swiping the message to the side. As if he could forget.

Sighing, and determined to put the reminder out of his mind, he turns back to his papers. He has grades to give. That’s more urgent.

“Well, well, well, look who the cat dragged in.”

Tobirama turns away from his stack of tests, just barely restraining an annoyed sigh. At this rate, he’s never going to get this done.

“Yamakawa-san,” he greets, politely.

“Senju,” Yamakawa greets back, and leans over to peer at his steaming mug. “That’s not coffee?”

“No,” Tobirama replies, “Tea.” He swallows back several sharp comments to add, and settles for a polite. “Can I help you with something?”

“Nothing much, just making small talk,” Yamakawa says, and as if to prove it takes the chair right next to him. Tobirama kisses goodbye to his chance of grading papers. “You don’t come here often, when there isn’t a meeting.”

“Grading papers is easier in my office,” Tobirama says wryly. Adds, shrugging, “Makes it easier for most student to come find me, too. Often, they prefer it when I can speak to them alone and in private.”

“Right,” Yamakawa says, slowly. “About that. You’re alright?”

Tobirama restrains from snorting. If he _wasn’t_ alright, he wouldn’t be here, now, would he.

Of course, any other teacher than him wouldn’t have been able to react in time to seek shelter from the literal hurricane that wrecked his office, while calming the student down.

“I’m fine. Midori-chan’s power just manifested at the wrong time, and were more destructive than most,” Tobirama waves the concern away. “Poor girl was more distraught than I was.”

“I can only imagine,” Yamakawa says, grimacing. “Fifteen is old to manifest. Loss of control is almost expected when that happens.”

“Yes,” Tobirama nods. His face darkens as he recalls the girl’s face, the terror in her eyes. It brings back bad memories. “I have alerted the proper authorities of the irregularity. I hope I’m wrong, but manifesting this late, well…”

Yamakawa’s grimace becomes more pronounced, and he makes an agreeing sound. Manifesting late often has to do with repressed feelings, and violent outbursts are common for children that have less than ideal home life.

It’s an unfortunate truth that everyone in the school has dealt with one of those case at one point or another. One of the _perks_ of working in one of the less favoured parts of the city. While it makes it less likely to be disturbed by villain attacks and other incidents that hit the centre all the time, it also makes it more likely to encounter more difficult and delicate situations of a personal nature.

Frankly, Tobirama thinks there would be less cases of the kind if the school could afford an actual, skilled counsellor. Tobirama _does_ have the proper papers and skills, but he’s just one man, and his job is teaching, not counselling. He unfortunately doesn’t have the time, nor the disposition, to help everyone in addition to doing lessons.

But…

“I’m thinking of making a course,” he admits to Yamakawa, because his colleague seems to at least be concerned enough about the topic. “Raise awareness among the staff, give everyone some pointers on what to do and how to react when a student comes to us.”

“That’d be a good idea,” Yamakawa agrees. “If you need help setting it up, tell me.”

Tobirama nods, pleasantly surprised. He doesn’t interact much with his colleagues, hasn’t learned much more than their name and basic information in the five years he’s been working here.

He’s not sure why they even bother to seek him out or help him any more.

But at least, they are not wholly incompetent, and that’s something he can appreciate.

“You know,” Yamakawa suddenly says, “I don’t think anyone has ever told you, but we’re all glad you’re here. I mean, I guess it’s overdue, but still. You’ve changed a lot of things for the better – both for the organization and the school itself, and for the students. We’re all very thankful for that.” He pauses, then adds wryly. “Although, I still don’t get why you chose to come _here_ of all places. Surely, you had better choices.”

Tobirama did. With all his diplomas he could easily work in laboratories, or research facilities. But while he likes science and research, _teaching_ is his true passion.

As for why he’s teaching in a rundown school of the suburbs instead of one of the best colleges in Konoha – the Academy had asked, after all – well.

The distance from the centre and all the villain and hero fights was one of the main reasons. Another was that Tobirama has spent years consulting and giving seminars in more ‘ _classy_ ’ schools to help pay for his studies, and frankly no one could pay him to deal with that degree of arrogance and obscure social codes on a daily basis.

Another is that he likes making a difference, and actually helping his students. Those here are much more grateful and motivated than those in the Academy, when one treats them with decency and respect and doesn’t expect them to fail.

Not to mention…

“It’s closer to home,” Tobirama admits wryly. “Allows me to save on gas.”

Yamakawa lets out a startled laugh. He seems about to answer, when an outraged “ _what!_ ” sounds behind them both.

Turning around, Tobirama find that a small crowd has formed in front of the TV screen. Frowning, Yamakawa looks at him before rising to go look at what is so fascinating. Tobirama, curious, follows after him.

He stays at the back of the crowd of teaching staff, tall enough to see the screen above the heads of everyone else.

“ _-has denounced the rampant villainy. In a stirring speech, he announced his intention to add to the military and police budget, as well as grant some more governmental help to the heroes agency._ ” The presenter drones, in front of images of destruction and fightings that are at least a few years old. Tobirama spots a few shots of himself, flooding the main street, and one of his most famous attack in Kiri, amidst the montage. “ _Concerns about whether this will mean more taxes have been addressed in this morning’s meeting._ _The Da_ _i_ _myo reassured everyone that he simply intends to reassign some budgeting decisions, taking from fields that have less need of it, to help in this war-_ ”

“Bah!” One of the teachers in front exclaims in disgust. “Three guesses who is going to get fucked with this new reform.”

“They can’t take all our budget,” another immediately protests.

“As if it has ever stopped them before,” someone else mutters. “They’ll give less money to education as a whole, and the board will assign more to the central schools and less to us to make up for it. That’s how it work.”

Everyone quickly devolves into angry mutterings and arguments, and Yamakawa leaves his side to find a friend of his in front of the crowd.

Tobirama frowns, unseen by anyone.

Well then.

Forget grading his papers, or even going home early and enjoying a free afternoon before the evening obligations.

It seems he has people to visit.

Hopefully his students are free. With their help, he might even make it to the family dinner in time.

 

 

 

The sky is dark when Tobirama parks in front of the Senju family house, a testament to how late he is. He steps out of the car, and closes the door quietly. Purely by habit, he glances back at his reflection in one of the car windows, checking if his outfit is straight.

Despite the gloom, his skin is pale enough that he can see the three stark lines on his face in the windowpane. Sighing, he releases the tension he hadn’t even been aware he’d been holding, and the lines fade from view even as the hyper-awareness that come with his talents fade as well.

It leaves his mind blessedly blank for a moment, devoid of that constant buzzing feeling he gets when he uses his powers.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t last. Countless thoughts, usually held in check by that awareness, come flooding back in to fill the void left. Tobirama sighs, and wishes he could find a middle-ground between the constant awareness and the constant thinking.

“Oi, cousin!” Touka’s voice startles him, and he turns away from his car to see her waving at him from the open front door. “What are you doing, standing there like a ghost! Come in! We’re all waiting for you already!”

“Ah, sorry,” he calls back, and quickly walks up the path to the house. Once close enough, he smiles at her thinly, waving a hand, “Good evening, Touka.”

“Evening, cousin. Thinking of turning back before it’s too late?” She asks, teasing.

“You know how it is,” he says, and obligingly lets her kiss his cheek. “Is brother here already?”

“For once,” she says, turning away and letting him close the door. He drops his jacket on a chair and follows after her, even as she goes on, “It’s rare for you to be the last one here, Tobi.”

“Don’t call me that,” he says, more a token protest than anything else. “I was busy. And the roads were blocked.”

“The roads were blocked?”

Tobirama and Touka both turn to see Mito coming out of the bathroom. She’s poised as usual, her red hair twisted in twin buns, her back straight, her lips red as blood. As always, Mito looks like a queen.

“Good evening, Mito,” Tobirama greets her, and she smiles at him, a sharp little thing that makes it hard not to smile back.

“Good evening, Tobirama,” she greets back, and starts walking towards the dining room. Touka walks next to them, looking faintly amused. “I trust you didn’t have too much trouble on the road?”

“As I said, there was some blockage,” Tobirama says, and shrugs. “Nothing serious. I think I avoided the worse of it.”

“That’s good,” Mito says, “Did they mention what caused it on the radio?”

 _Yes, me,_ Tobirama thinks but doesn’t say.

It makes something a little like guilt but mostly like satisfaction curl into his gut. While he doesn’t like lying to his family, he can’t help the feeling that comes with a job well done, can’t help the thrill of having succeeded in his plans. He’s still coming down from that high, so he can’t help his good mood, really.

“Sorry,” he says, shrugging lightly. “I didn’t listen to the radio.”

“What was on the radio?” Hashirama asks from the dining room.

Tobirama goes to greet him warmly, but finds himself stopping cold when passing the door. Touka, understanding but merciless, gives him a commiserating pat on the back before pushing him forward. Scowling, he sends her a quick glare that she ignores easily, then tries to school his features into something a bit more neutral to face his brother and his friend.

He must be failing at that, because Hashirama’s smile becomes a little strained. Next to him, Madara scowls at him but tries to reign in his own obvious desire to glare at him. Tobirama turns, deciding to ignore the man – for all that he’s Kagami’s cousin twice removed or something to that effect, Madara and the teenager couldn’t be more different if they tried, and Tobirama can’t _stand_ the guy. There is no love lost between the two of them.

“The roads were blocked,” Mito answers Hashirama, ignoring the tension gracefully. “We were wondering what happened.”

“Ah, that,” Madara’s scowl becomes darker, although this time not focused on Tobirama. “It was that damn Tide villain again! He caused one hell of a commotion in the eastern part of the city. Flooded the main roads and made a mess.”

That, he had, Tobirama thinks smugly, keeping his features mostly blank.

“I’m surprised you two weren’t called on the scene,” he comments, instead of smirking like he wants to. Smirking is something _Tide_ does, and it would be a dumb thing to get caught for that sort of slip up.

“We were busy elsewhere,” Hashirama admits, looking rather serious. “Tide’s flashy actions were nothing more than a distraction. He was trying to distract us from his real goal – he had kidnapped three governors, and they would have died if no one had noticed.”

“That bastard always has a plan within a plan,” Madara grumbles, and adds rather smugly, “But we’re starting to become familiar with his style, and this time we got the upper hand.”

Or so they thought, Tobirama thinks with genuine amusement. He doesn’t have a plan within a plan, he has _plans_ within _plans_. Flooding the main roads and keeping the police busy was indeed the decoy for the ‘real plan’, which was to kill those annoying governors.

Except that, really, if Tobirama wanted to kill anyone, he wouldn’t strap them to a bomb with a twenty-four hours timer. He would shoot them, and leave their corpse for the police to find. Or, if he wanted to leave a calling card, he’d drown them on dry land, and then leave them in a puddle. Really, did they think he was _that_ incompetent and stupid?

No, the governors were simply another lure. One that the law enforcement and the heroes apparently gobbled up, hook line and sinker. And while they otherwise occupied with both him and his ‘real scheme’, Danzo, Torifu and Kagami were sneaking into the secured archive facility to steal a few files. By the time anyone realized it, if they ever did, it would be far too late.

And in the midst of all that, no one would think of looking much into all the money that a few congresspeople had donated to programs dedicated to improving education in less favoured places. Even if said people grew spines and went to the police to say that Tide had threatened them – or, for one or two of them, actually convinced them – to give away their money… What could they do? Take the money back? Ha.

The public outcry alone would be a sufficient deterrent.

Ah, Tobirama does love pulling one over the eyes of everyone.

Now, what to buy his students, as a reward for a job well done…

“Is the police any closer to figuring out who he is or what he wants?” Touka asks, frowning a little. “I mean, it’s been years, hasn’t it?”

“Sure, but before, Tide wasn’t under _our_ jurisdiction,” Hashirama answers. “He doesn’t operate solely in Konoha, after all. So we needed to cooperate with all those other agencies, and it was a mess. It still is, frankly, but we’ve managed to wrestle authority on his case only recently. It should smooth over soon.”

“Really?” Tobirama says, finding himself blinking in surprise. That is news to him.

Although, it does neatly explain why law enforcement and hero agencies all over felt a bit more competent lately – and thus more of a challenge. He’s been wondering about it, given that before he thought he’d been overestimating people in general. Frankly, it had been a refreshing change of pace, to actually have some opposition.

Huh.

Maybe he has been _under_ estimating them instead.

How novel. And exciting.

“Hm, yes,” Hashirama goes on, nodding. “Since Konoha has the most developed hero industry, and the second best investigative teams, they finally decided to put us on the lead. That reform for more resources against villainy will help too.”

Tobirama frowns. While that sounds like a good thing for hero agencies and Konoha in general, certainly a good reputation boost for them… Well, he has opinions, and doubts about this reform. It certainly isn’t good for _him._

More importantly, his brother has that tired look about him, again.

“Don’t overwork yourself,” Tobirama says.

“I’m fine,” Hashirama says, smiling at him – but it doesn’t do much for the fact that his skin is paler than usual, and the faint circles under his eyes. His smile gains a mischievous edge. “Besides, _I’_ m not the one who was late!”

“For once,” Tobirama replies, unimpressed. “You and Uchiha-”

“After all this time, you should call him Madara, brother,” Hashirama says.

“ _Uchiha_ ,” Tobirama presses on, ignoring him pointedly, and ignoring the glare Madara is sending his way, “are _always_ late. When you are _here_ at all.”

Hashirama winces, his smile faltering, and Madara’s glare darkens even more. Tobirama doesn’t care much for the latter, but seeing his brother downtrodden always makes him feel stupidly guilty.

For all his flaws, Tobirama does cherish his family.

Even if he lies to them about a lot of things. And sometimes likes to drag them into hero vs villains fights when he’s particularly bored.

“Let’s not talk about work at the dinner table,” Mito interrupts before the situation can devolve any further.

Always the wise one, Mito. Tobirama will probably forever wonder why she married his fool of a brother.

Then again, Hashirama has always been the charismatic one in the family. That’s why he makes such a good hero. It’s much too easy to love him, and very hard to hate him. Tobirama would know – he tried, after all.

Mito, he thinks, might have tried too. But in the end, they both failed at hating him. How could they, when Hashirama shines so bright? When he gives so much, just because he can, never expecting anything in return? That man loves everything and everyone, and it would take a stronger and colder person than both Tobirama and Mito are to resist the pull.

But, Tobirama thinks, eyeing his brother’s face, the slight slump to his shoulder, thinking of that wince when he made that comment… _But_. Isn’t that exactly the problem, though?

Hashirama gives. He gives, and gives, and gives and _gives_ , and he never gets much in return. One day, Hashirama is going to give every last bit of himself, and there’ll be nothing left.

Tobirama wants to kidnap him. He wants to don his mask and steal him from that stupid world that takes him for granted. Wants to destroy them, before they have the chance to destroy him. Hashirama is his brother, his last brother, and they _can’t have him_.

He would flood the whole world, drown them all, if it’s what it’d take.

“How about you, Tobi-”

“Don’t call me that.”

“-how has work been at school?” Hashirama asks, looking genuinely interested, because of course he is. Dork.

“It’s been fine,” Tobirama says.

When he doesn’t say more, Hashirama pouts, and Touka elbows him. Sighing, he starts talking more about his official job and students. Doesn’t mention Midori-chan’s manifestation. Doesn’t mention the many problems that the reform will bring. In front of him, Hashirama smiles and relaxes, finally putting all the problems that come with being a hero away for the evening.

Tobirama looks at that smile, and something familiar twists in his gut, something bitter.

He would flood the world for him. But Hashirama is the _good_ one. He’s the hero. He would hate Tobirama, if he did something like that. He would already hate him if he found out about his… side-job.

So Tobirama won’t. He’ll keep an eye on his selfless sibling, and on those people that would try to use him.

And at the first wrong move, he’ll drown them all, even if it makes Hashirama sad.

Tide is there for that, after all. To do the things that Tobirama himself can’t.

 

 

 

“Tobirama, wait.”

At the sound of his brother’s voice, Tobirama’s heart misses a beat and he has to fight the instinct to either take cover or attack. Grimacing, he finishes shrugging on his coat. People taking him by surprise when he’s not using his powers really isn’t good for his health.

Especially people that actually _do_ try to hurt or capture him regularly, even if _they_ do not realize it.

“Listen, brother, I wanted to apologize,” Hashirama tells him, the sound of his footsteps coming closer.

Tobirama wipes the grimace from his face, and turns to him, arching a curious brow.

“What for?” He asks, genuinely lost.

Thinking back on the conversation at dinner yields no answer. Nothing was said that demanded apologies – or at least he doesn’t think so. It’s possible he missed some nuance, though. Tobirama has never been the best at understanding people, and for all his eloquence and vocabulary he’s also not good at talking to them.

“I-” Hashirama pauses, looking down for a second, before looking back up at him. He looks rather miserable, and in this light even more tired than he did at the table. Tobirama wants to break something. “What you said about me being late or not there because of work. I’m sorry. You’re right, I’ve been missing out a lot, haven’t I?”

Ah. Guilty conscience it is, then. Tobirama winces faintly, his own guilty conscience rearing it’s head. It seems his comment hit home a bit harder than intended.

Habits from all the times Tide fought against Lignum made him speak without thinking much. He’s always taunting heroes, and it seems that his sharp tongue is coming to bite him in the ass. One day, he’s going to say something familiar and his brother is going to realize, even with the voice modifier, who he’s speaking to.

“Ah, don’t worry,” he says, a bit awkwardly. “I didn’t mean much by it.”

“No, no, you did,” Hashirama denies.

And, well. It’s true that Tobirama meant what he said but he still didn’t mean to hurt his brother. He never does.

Well. Not always, at least.

“I didn’t,” he says, and it’s not really a lie. “I just worry about you, brother. You work too much.”

“So do you,” Hashirama says.

“Brother, you’re a hero, you risk your life regularly. I have no doubt it’s more stressful than being a high-school teacher,” Tobirama says. “The only enemy I face on my job is teenagers and general stupidity.”

Well, on his official job, at least, and he lifts a hand to hide the amused quirk of his lips

The quip has the benefit of making Hashirama smile, and Tobirama feels a bit better. It doesn’t last long, though, and his brother suddenly looks down again. Tobirama refrains from rolling his eyes – he’s used to Hashirama’s mood swing, unfortunately.

“I’m sorry for making you worry,” Hashirama mutters. He looks up, looking serious. “But I promise you, I’m being careful!”

“I’m sure you are,” _as much as you are able,_ he finishes in his head. He sighs. “I have full confidence in your abilities, brother. That’s…”

That’s not the problem here, not really.

Hashirama has always been sturdy and powerful, and Tobirama _is_ keeping an eye on him from afar. Or from very much up close and personal, sometimes. Besides, as much as he dislikes Uchiha, the man has Hashirama’s back. He’s good for that, at the very least. So, no, Tobirama really doesn’t worry much about his brother getting irreparably hurt.

The thing is, the exhaustion he’s seeing on his brother’s form isn’t something physical, nor due to an injury. It’s stress and malcontent, mental fatigue and probably emotional as well.

Tobirama sighs again, and palms his face, before looking at Hashirama again.

“I don’t mind that you work a lot, brother,” he tries again, “I do the same, after all, so I’d be a pretty big hypocrite if I told you off for that. And your job is dangerous, I accept that. I do not _like_ it, but I accept it. But,” he pauses, and lets his hand fall to his side, “I still worry, because you look tired, Hashirama.”

“Of course, as you said, I’ve got a lot of work-”

“That’s not what I mean,” Tobirama snaps, starting to get annoyed. He looks away, and takes a deep breath, before looking back at his brother, “Brother, what I want to know is if you are happy.”

“Happy?” Hashirama echoes, then smiles tiredly. “Of course I am. I’ve got a wonderful wife, a wonderful family, wonderful friends. My job lets me help a lot of people as well.”

“But do you like it? Do you _love_ it?” Tobirama says, watching him. “I became a teacher because I like science, I like children, because I love teaching. My job _is_ tiring, but at the end of the day I’m happy because I love what I do. I’m doing what I _want_ to do.” He pauses, then asks quietly. “I worry, brother, that you do not. Being a hero is well and fine, and I understand that the world needs constant saving but… Are you doing it because you feel you _have_ to? Or because you _want_ to?”

Hashirama is staring at him with wide eyes, and doesn’t reply. Tobirama frowns. He talked quite a bit more than he usually does, but this is important. He _needs_ Hashirama to understand.

“I just want you to be happy,” he says, and wills him to understand, “Not just content, or satisfied, but _happy_. I want you to be able to tell me that you love your job, that you are doing what you _want_ , and not what you were told would suit you. I want you to be able to come out of a day of work and think that it was a good day, because you liked what you did.”

“I-” Hashirama starts, slowly, then trails off uncertainly.

Well. At least he didn’t talk for nothing. Hashirama looks hesitant and thoughtful, and Tobirama feels a smile coming. His hand twitches with the urge to cover it up, but in the end he simply gifts his brother with a small smile.

“You don’t have to answer now,” he says, feeling stupidly fond of that absurd oaf that he calls brother. “Just think about it.”

Hashirama nods slowly, and Tobirama’s smile softens. He waves a hand, and opens the door.

“Well then, I’ll see you next week,” he says, ignoring the fact that most weeks Hashirama doesn’t make it in time.

“Ah, good bye,” Hashirama calls after him.

“Good bye,” Tobirama says back, and turns a stern look at his brother. “And take care of yourself!”

“Yes, yes,” Hashirama huffs.

The door closes on his Hashirama’s smile, and Tobirama huffs. Foolish brother. One day, he’ll be the death of him.

Just as he reaches his car, his phone starts ringing in his pocket. Tobirama fishes it out, surprised and wary. Anyone calling him this late can’t have good news. He looks at the screen, and stills. Staring back at him is Kagami’s name.

“Tobirama speaking,” he says, picking up.

“ _Ah, sensei, I hope I’m not bothering you,_ ” Kagami says, voice full of manic energy that so easily gets confused for cheerfulness. “ _I had a question about that assignment you gave us today._ ”

“Oh?” Tobirama says, even as he opens the door of his car. Given that the only assignment his students got today from him was to steal a few files, he’s pretty sure Kagami isn’t talking about schoolwork. He hums, “You’re getting a head-start on your homework? I’m proud. What is causing you problems?”

“ _Well, if it’s no trouble, I’d like you to explain what is meant on the third exercise. I’m afraid it wasn’t covered in class._ ”

Tobirama’s eyes narrow. Something that wasn’t covered, huh. On the third part of the plan. His lips twitch, and unbidden his hand raises to cover his growing smirk.

Interesting.

It seems his students have discovered something about this reform business.

“I’ll be right here,” Tobirama says.

Ah. He _loves_ his job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was blown away by the response to the last chapter! I hope you all enjoyed this one just as much!  
> 


	3. Wet behind the ears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a very exciting chapter, but a necessary one I fear, to set the scene a bit better.  
> You'll notice me introduce a few minor OCs, and one actual canon character that wouldn't fit the timeline if this was canon. But, hey, Kishi didn't give us enough characters from the founding era to do anything else, especially not women. So he has only himself to blame.  
> Enjoy!

The hustle and bustle of headquarters is migraine inducing on a good day, and the brightness of the corridor lights never helps much with it. Madara suspects that for others it might be easier to stand, but for him it’s always a nightmare. The sharingan, the secret bloodline passed down through his family, depends on the eyes and influences the brain. Light sensitivity is one of the most common problems, as well as frequent migraines, and sometimes even nausea. On a good day, headquarters are difficult for him to be in.

This isn’t a good day.

Hell, Madara thinks, clutching his coffee like he would a lifeline, this hasn’t been a good week, or even a good _month_. He, and most of the heroes agencies around the countries have been facing a long long string of truly terrible days, and it’s starting to take it’s toll.

Even Hashirama, usually cheerful despite all odds and unbeatable, is oddly thoughtful lately.

A glance to the side tells him that his best friend is still in that odd mood of his. Hashirama is staring ahead, eyes lost somewhere between realities, once more too deep in his own thoughts to pay any attention to the outside world. Madara clenches his hands tighter around his cup.

Hashirama has been in a funk for a while now, looking as exhausted and morose as the rest of them. Madara can’t blame him, given the circumstances. Things have been difficult. But while Madara can deal with a depressed or tired Hashirama, a thoughtful one is another beast entirely. Perhaps if he knew what’s on his mind, he could help, or at least stop worrying, but he has no clue.

It’s been going on ever since that Senju family dinner to which he was invited, almost a week prior. Whatever has Hashirama so preoccupied, it must be either important or complicated, for it to last this long.

Madara would bet it has to do with that annoying albino bastard.

He might be a little biased. Or a little lot, in fact. It’s true that he and Tobirama never could stand each other.

Still, nothing during dinner was said that truly could warrant such an extreme pensive mood, so the only possible explanation is that something was said when Hashirama ran after his brother for some reason before the bastard left.

Asking Hashirama yielded no results, of course, and Madara would rather jump feet first into a bath of acid than ask Tobirama for anything.

So he’s stuck, and Hashirama is stuck with his thoughts, and there’s no one to distract him from that awful migraine he has. The coffee doesn’t even help, but at this point Madara is pretty sure he’s surviving on caffeine alone and that he would drop dead if he stopped drinking.

“You look terrible, Uchiha,” a voice interrupts his thoughts. He turns his head to glare at the newcomer, and receives Nara Shiori’s most unimpressed stare for his troubles. “Are you trying to awaken another evolution of your sharingan? Or are you just stewing in your anger and bitterness?”

“Shut up,” Madara bites out.

Nara is a good operative, but an annoyance anyway. Frankly, Madara wouldn’t even bother putting up with her if she wasn’t so bloody smart and gifted. Unfortunately, she’s the main reason they’ve made any progress at all regarding the villain problems they face, so he has to show at least some goodwill.

Madara focuses back on his coffee cup, glaring at it and wishing the annoying woman would go away already.

He must have been a fucking mass murderer in another life, though, because Nara doesn’t leave. In fact, she lazily sits down right next to him, looking for all the world as if she’s about to fall asleep on the spot and take a quick nap.

If Madara didn’t have a killer headache, he would be tempted to try it himself, to be honest.

“The higher ups are still in the meeting,” Nara says rather suddenly, if still lazily – as if commenting on the weather.

“Yeah?” Madara manages not to snap, “Good for them.”

“I’m sure,” Nara agrees wryly, “Whether it’s good for _us_ , on the other hand…” She trails off, and sends him a too sharp look when he glances at her. “It’s the fifth meeting in two weeks, Uchiha. It can’t mean anything good.”

Madara opens his mouth to tell her how much he cares about the stupid meetings – that is, not at all – but suddenly closes it with a snap.

Five meetings in two weeks, with the tense situation, isn’t too unusual. Especially with that reform supposed to help them – they need to work out the kinks, probably, and argue about paperwork and administration. Madara is damn glad he’s not in those meetings.

But Nara is their lead strategist, one of their best despite her many flaws, and she’s got a good head on her shoulders. She’s also head coordinator, which means she’s the one who keeps many things in this mess running. She should be in those meetings with them – helping the higher up see the bigger pictures, connect the dots, and making advances in their stagnating investigations, while telling them where they need more budget to help things, which departments could use a boost.

“You’re not in those meetings,” he says, slowly.

“I’m not,” she agrees, and gives him a humourless smile. “I wasn’t even invited. When I asked if I could help, I was told no.”

“That’s…” Madara starts.

That’s the biggest load of bullshit he’s heard in a while, and that week has been _full_ of it. There is literally _no_ situation that he can think of where Nara couldn’t help. She’s one of the best and brightest, once she gets off her ass. And she _suggested_ her help, which means she would have at least been proactive. There’s no meeting he can imagine that wouldn’t need that sort of help.

Unless the higher up are having a literal arse-kissing session in that meeting room, but he rather doubts it.

So, there’s something going on. Something fishy, probably, because Nara noticed it and she’s their best troubleshooter. Something fishier than that, even, because she’s not part of it. Which means that whatever they’re talking about, they do not want _her_ to find about it. Which means it’s probably worse than anything he can think of.

Maybe it’s not even about the damn reform.

Damn it, he doesn’t have _nearly_ enough coffee for this.

“Aren’t you friend with Yamanaka?” He asks, mildly. “Couldn’t he tell you about it?”

“Inoryuu isn’t in the meetings either, he didn’t even know there was one before I asked about it,” Nara says lightly.

So, the strategy and coordination head isn’t in the meeting, _and_ the psychology and information head isn’t either. That’s worse than not good.

Madara doesn’t usually care about meetings, as he’s rarely invited. He serves the agency best on the field, not in meeting rooms. Hashirama gets invited more, but even he doesn’t care much for it – his best friend is charismatic, powerful and good at seeing the big picture, but he doesn’t like leading much.

A meeting that doesn’t have any of their men in it, just the higher up, and none of the people that would help with strategy, patterns, behaviours or information gathering. It doesn’t leave many possible departments.

“Research?” He states more than ask, mostly thinking aloud.

“…Not the head medic, at least, and none of the scientists _I_ know,” Nara tells him. “But they’ve been tense lately, for no reason that I can find. Many also get evasive, so it’s a very real possibility.”

Well, _that_ sets off so many alarm bells in Madara’s brain that he’s pretty sure his migraine is going to become a physical entity soon. What could the higher ups _possibly_ want with a bunch of scientists that they don’t want anyone else, especially not their psych, medical and strategy department to find out about?

Fuck, he didn’t need _more_ to worry about, damn it.

“Get to the damn point,” he growls at Nara, massaging the bridge of his nose. “I have a damn headache already, and you’re making it worse.”

“Yes, we’re all tired and snappy, aren’t we?” Nara muses, which isn’t a damn answer at all. “Both I, Inoryuu and the medical staff told them they should let up some slack before people snap, but if anything they are causing more trouble for us all to deal with. A reform is all well and good, if only it actually helps.” She shrugs, and stands up. “Ah, but well, what do I know.”

Madara looks at her suspiciously, but she simply starts to walk away. She waves a hand lazily at him, not even looking back.

“Take care of yourself, Uchiha,” she calls out. “I’d hate for you to snap and kill us all because you lack coffee or sleep!”

Madara growls at her, and doesn’t reply.

Damn it all to hell. His migraine is starting to make him hear a ringing noise.

What a fucking shitty day. It can’t possibly get worse.

As if to prove him wrong, the corridor speakers come to life with a burst of static.

“ _The following members of the staff are expected in Planning Room 3, I repeat, the following-_ ”

Madara hears his name be called out and looks briefly to the sky. Damn it. Can’t catch a break, can he.

At least, he thinks vindictively when Nara’s name is called as well, he won’t suffer alone.

 

 

 

There’s a pot on the stove, dinner cooking steadily, when Tobirama’s phone pings. Humming lightly, he fishes the device out of his pocket and opens it to find a text from Kagami.

 _Check the news_.

A second ping, another message.

 _KTV5_ , _btw_.

Quickly followed by.

_I’m omw._

Tobirama frowns, thumb hovering over his screen. It’s rather late. What could possibly be happening that would push Kagami to come to his house at this hour?

Curiosity piqued, Tobirama turns the stove off, and goes to his living room. It takes him a few seconds to turn the TV on, and get to the proper channel. Once he does, he leans against the door frame, staring at the screen.

“... _the exposition will happen on the fifth of next month, and will be one of the most impressive events of the season,_ ” the presenter, a pretty woman with a red smile announces. “ _For security reasons, and in response to the security concerns that many have raised,_ _the city council has called on both the best of the police department, and on the heroes agencies. Our liaison from Kiri, Terumi Mei, has been invited to answer our questions. Mei, can you hear me?_ ”

“ _Loud and clear, Hime,_ ” a woman with auburn hair and an outrageously low cut blue dress answers, smiling at the camera. “ _I just came out from the chief of security’s office, and while I obviously didn’t get any plans, these people are taking things seriously._ ”

“ _How seriously are we speaking?_ ” the first reporter asks.

“ _Pretty serious,_ ” Terumi says, “ _There are no less than two squads on security detail, and three heroes will be patrolling the area._ _I dare say that everyone and everything will be in good hands._ ”

“ _Three_ _heroes_ _? Do you, perhaps, have the names of those who will be insuring both the visitors and the jewels’ safety?_ ”

“ _Nothing concrete, unfortunately, but a trusted source tells me that Kiri’s darling, Snowdrift, might just be there. There is some noise about Iwa contributing, but nothing certain. As for Konoha, that’s not a certainty either-_ ”

“ _Ah, excuse the interruption, Mei, but I’ve just received a statement from Konoha’s Hero Agency. It seems one of our top heroes will be on the scene. Which one, though, is kept a secret for security reasons._ ”

“ _Of course,_ ” Terumi says, “ _How exciting! I think we all agree when I say that this exposition will be the talk of the year, if not the decade!_ ”

“ _Indeed, thank you Mei,_ ” the announcer agrees, and directs her best smile to the camera, “ _This was Terumi Mei, direct live from Kiri._ _More on this after a short advertisement break._ ”

Tobirama hums, lowering the volume, and turns back to his kitchen. He turns the stove back on, phone back in hand. There’s no new message.

Putting his phone back in his pocket, and an ear on the TV, listening for the distinct sound of the advertisement break’s end, Tobirama starts stirring the pot. He wonders what it is about this exposition that has his student in such a frenzy. For all that his nickname is Dragon, Kagami doesn’t actually hoard precious, shiny things. Jewels or precious stones aren’t of any interests to him either, and stealing them would have little value.

It can’t be boredom driven either – they had a mission barely a week and a half earlier. Sure, Tobirama likes to keep his students out of fire range, and gives them the sneaky jobs that have less chances of being dangerous, but they’ve never complained about it, Kagami least of all.

Besides, it’s the end of the year. Surely, _surely_ his students all have enough schoolwork as it is, cramming for the final exams that will dictate which college they can go to.

If they feel they haven’t got enough, Tobirama will gladly take them to task and assign them some more cramming to do. He knows they are smart enough to pass with flying colour and go into whichever school they want, and he won’t stand for them sabotaging their chances.

Villainy, as fun as it can be, is no real job, and they need some stability and a steady source of income. Something that this hobby won’t bring them, no matter how many precious jewels they steal.

Just as he’s wondering whether he should put another plate on the table or not – has Kagami even eaten yet – the door bell chimes.

Tobirama isn’t even surprised, when he opens the door, to find all three of his students standing there with innocent expressions. Kagami's and Torifu's are markedly better than Danzo's - who isn't trying all that hard to look convincing, to be honest.

“I brought them along,” Kagami says, smiling winningly.

“You’re a menace,” Tobirama sighs, but opens the door fully. “Come on in. Have you all eaten already?”

The sheepish expressions he gets in return are answer enough, and Tobirama herds them towards the kitchen. It takes little time for all of them to grab a plate and put food in them. It’s nothing much, just stew, but it’s warm and filling.

They all pile onto the couch with their plates, just in time for the advertisement break to end.

“ _Good evening, all, and welcome back to_ -”

“So, what is it about this exposition that has you so interested, Kagami?” Tobirama asks, barely listening to the woman droning on and on about what he’s already heard or inferred. Jewelry exposition, many rare things on display, a month from now almost, much security, blah, blah, blah.

“It’s not the exposition, really,” Kagami says, and waves his fork towards the screen. “It’s the guy that’s holding it. I was just watching the news, and then they showed us the statement he made- unbelievable. He’s either fearless, or stupid.”

“You really _are_ becoming as snobbish as sensei,” Torifu murmurs, and then quickly stuffs his mouth with food when both Kagami and Tobirama send him a look.

“You haven’t heard the guy!” Kagami protests hotly. “He practically was _begging_ for someone to come and steal his stuff.”

Tobirama arches a brow, as does Torifu. It’s Danzo that answers, though, swallowing before pointing his fork at the screen.

“This guy?” He asks.

“- _statement, this evening,_ ” the announcer says, and smiles. “ _Here is what he said._ ”

The camera cuts to a small, rotund man, with a wide smile hidden under an even wider moustache. He listens genially to the reporter ask if he’s concerned someone might steal his jewels, and all the rare things that will be on display, then barks out a laugh.

“ _Impossible!_ ” The man declares, waving a hand quickly, “ _I’ve hired the best security for the exposition. My jewels are safe!_ ”

“ _But what about before, or after the exposition?_ ” The reporter asks.

“ _My personal security team is constantly watching out,_ ” the man replies, “ _But even if someone managed to slip past them, they wouldn’t get far. The place I’m keeping everything in is not only a secret – it’s the most secure place on earth! I’d like to see someone steal from it!_ ”

The reporter asks another question, but Tobirama isn’t listening any more. He leans back in the couch slowly, eyebrow climbing high.

Well then. Isn’t _that_ a claim.

“See?” Kagami says, all manic glee. “This is practically a dare!”

“It _does_ sound like a challenge,” Danzo agrees, sounding unimpressed. “Or a trap.”

Torifu makes an agreeing sound around his food.

“Well, sure, but if we expect it we won’t fall for it, right?” Kagami says, and turns hopeful eyes on Tobirama.

Tobirama gives him a look.

“Danzo is right,” he says, at length. “This is too obvious to be anything more than a trap. And if it wasn’t, then it’ll be one when the heroes agencies see this and assume – correctly – that many will want to try and break into this so-called ‘most secure place on earth’.” Tobirama pauses, and then adds. “Besides, even if it wasn’t, I’m curious about this ‘we’ that you speak about, Kagami.”

“What?” Kagami says, and then yelps, “But-!”

“If someone’s stealing anything, it’s me, and you lot,” he gestures to the three of them, “can be good minions and follow the procedure from the base.”

“But why?!” Kagami whines immediately.

"Exam season," Danzo mutters darkly, not fully paying attention to anyone.

“Too risky, as well,” Torifu predicts accurately from his spot. “Even if it’s not a trap.”

Tobirama nods, reaching out to pat the teens' heads. Torifu smiles, and next to him Danzo huffs and shakes his head. He’s typing on his phone at a furious pace, swiping and scrolling down pages and pages on the tiny screen.

Letting him be, Tobirama turns back to Kagami, who is looking truly disappointed. He sighs.

“You know why I won’t take you along,” he says, and tries to make it gentle. He doesn’t quite succeed, and sighs when his student simply looks down stubbornly. “Kagami.”

For a long moment, Kagami doesn’t move, a frustrated edge to his expression that reminds Tobirama of the first time they met, years ago. Kagami was younger then, but already so very reckless, too eager to prove himself to be careful about it.

So many young people, just coming into their powers, try to take on the world. So many make mistakes, and pay for it more dearly than they could have ever expected to.

Some days, on bad days, Tobirama wonders what would have happened to the boy that Kagami was, if Tobirama hadn’t chanced upon him. Would he be in prison, juvenile camp, maybe a rehabilitation center? His future stained forever by childish mistakes? Or would he have attracted the wrong kind of attention, and ended up in the wrong crowd? Or worse, dead?

Tobirama doesn’t want to know, but he still wonders, because that’s what he does. That’s what his brain is good at. Imagining a hundred of scenarios, each possible and all the more terrible for it.

Eventually, Kagami shakes his head, still looking down.

“I know,” he says, and it’s frustrated and unhappy. “I’m-” he pauses, and then gestures vaguely to both Torifu and Danzo- “ _We_ ’re too young. You won’t put us in the field unless we’re adults.”

“Yes,” Tobirama says, because it’s exactly the case.

The age where vigilante-heroes and would-be villains roamed the streets without any supervision, nor response from the government is long over. Now, heroes have agencies looking out for them, even if Tobirama doesn’t agree with most of their rules, laws and regulations. There are no minors running the streets and risking their lives trying to prevent the latest disaster themselves any more.

Or rather, there shouldn’t be.

Unfortunately, there are still vigilantes, and many of them start young out of some ill conceived idea that without them helping, the world will be destroyed.

There are also the kids like Kagami, like Danzo and Torifu, who have bad things that happen to them, or bad ideas, or simply feel like the world owes them _something_. Kids that eventually would probably end up criminals or villains anyway, but that are far too young to avoid the pitfalls that even the adults can’t always escape.

They’re not the first that Tobirama has given a stern talking to, and not even the first he’s taught.

They are, however, the first to stay and wish to remain in that line of ‘work’ later.

Tobirama isn’t against that. If that’s what they wish, even if he would prefer them to give up on those ideas and become baristas, or librarians, or whatever other profession will keep them safe, he’ll support them and teach them.

But he won’t put them in dangerous positions needlessly. Not while they are still learning, still _so young_.

“But we’ll never learn _anything_ if we never take risks!” Kagami explodes suddenly, raising his head and staring at him, eyes glowing red. “How are we supposed to be able to- to know how to fight if we never do?”

Tobirama crosses his arms, unimpressed with that logic.

“Are you saying I don’t train you all enough in fighting?” He asks slowly.

“That’s not the same-” Kagami tries to retort.

“It is, and if that’s all you are concerned with, I can certainly give you more remedial training,” Tobirama says. Kagami snaps his mouth shut. Humming, Tobirama goes on, “As for taking risks, I think I let you take enough of those. I let you sneak into places without my supervision, I let you do missions without me."

Often important missions, that are actually just as dangerous as going out in the city streets and battling heroes. The facilities that his students have broken into are never _easy_ to infiltrate, and have trained guards more often than not. Tobirama doesn't like it, really, but he knows that it's better that way, even if he would rather wait until all of them turn eighteen. They need to get some experience, after all.

In fact, the whole _point_ of letting them do this _i_ _s_ to get them used to risky situations, to real things, but with less risks of getting caught. Plans where no one realizes you are even there are the safest.

Palming at his face, Tobirama sighs. He reaches for the remote, mutes the TV, and then glances at Kagami.

“What is this about, Kagami?” He asks, and wants it to sound kind but all he manages is to sound tired.

Kagami doesn’t reply immediately. Next to him, Torifu has finished his plate, and is watching them silently, waiting. Danzo is watching and listening too, Tobirama knows, even though he hasn’t turned his head towards them – his phone screen is still displaying the same page as five minutes ago, a clear sign that he’s distracted.

“I just want to do something with you, sensei,” Kagami says eventually, quietly. “Instead of always being pushed aside to do something else, or watch and wait from afar.” He pauses, and shrugs awkwardly. “I’m sure the others agree.”

Neither Torifu nor Danzo speak to agree, but they don’t deny it either, and that’s an answer of its own.

Tobirama takes the time to put his own empty plate away, sorting his thoughts, before he looks at them.

“Why are you bringing this up now?” He asks. He pauses, realizing that it might not be taken the right way, and sighs, “Not that I don’t understand what you’re saying. But surely you realize that it won’t happen until you all are of age.” Then, because it might have escaped their notice. “That’s in only a few months. Why couldn’t it wait?”

Kagami frowns, and then shrugs. Torifu is the one that answers hesitantly.

“We’re going to be in college, though,” he says. “The excuse of remedial lessons isn’t going to stand…”

He trails off when Tobirama arches an unimpressed brow at him.

“I have more diplomas and qualification than half of your college professors are going to have,” he points out wryly. “The day you can’t come to me for help with your lessons is very far from now.”

“Does that mean we’ll still, well,” Kagami gestures between all of them. “You know. Be a team?”

“Of course we will,” Danzo, until then silent, scoffs. “Sensei never said he’ll stop teaching us. It simply won’t be official.”

“Oh,” Kagami says, softly. Then, “Oh! I’m an idiot.”

“That’s not new,” Danzo mutters, and gets Torifu’s elbow in the ribs for his troubles.

“Shut up,” Torifu says, and then makes a pass at his plate.

Danzo, not looking up from his phone, tries to stab his hand with his fork. Not a fool, Torifu immediately switches targets, and attempts to steal Kagami’s plate.

“Try it, I dare you,” Kagami hisses, clutching his now cool meal to his chest.

“Children,” Tobirama sighs, although it’s fond. “There is still more in the pot, if you are still hungry. Don’t murder each other.”

Immediately, Torifu dives for the pot. Kagami, who is stuffing his face too fast for it to be healthy, follows after him quickly.

Tobirama watches them go, feeling absurdly fond.

Once he’s sure the two are busy squabbling in the kitchen, he turns back to Danzo.

“You were worried too?” He asks, quietly.

Danzo stiffens a little, and shoots him a glance. Whatever he’s searching for, he must find it, because he relaxes slightly and shrugs, looking uncomfortable.

“I know you’re not going to leave us to fend on our own,” Danzo says, slowly, “But you’ve lost touch with other students, right? So, it was still a concern.” He pauses, and then admits quietly. “We still need you, sensei. I think we always will.”

“Really,” Tobirama huffs, and reaches out to ruffle his hair, ignoring the squawk it gets him. “You should know that I’m never really going to stop looking out for you. All of you.”

“I know that,” Danzo replies irritably, batting at his hand and trying to glare at him. “It’s an irrational fear, that’s all.”

Tobirama knows, all too well, that for his students that fear is all but irrational. He doesn’t call Danzo out on it, though, and simply hums.

Behind him, Kagami and Torifu’s voices come nearer.

“What’s up?” Kagami asks, leaning over the sofa’s back to peer at them curiously.

Danzo doesn't tell them, instead raises his phone up.

“Exposition guy has already become a meme,” he says.

Kagami lets out a surprised laugh, and leans even further to look at the pictures that Danzo is showing him. Torifu, nibbling on his food, is watching the phone from Danzo’s other side, curious.

Tobirama settles back into the couch, feeling oddly content.

He really has no intention of leaving his students alone if he can help it.

They make his life so much more interesting.


	4. Thirsting for some action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! This time, a more exciting one.  
> It's probably going to be the last one in a while, since I'm planning a three months trip starting next week. Hopefully, I'll get time to write and update during it, but I'm not confident about it, so be warned!  
> Enjoy!

Honestly speaking, Tobirama expected the whole heist for the jewels to be ridiculously easy. This wouldn’t be the first time someone makes an arrogant claim, only to have nothing to back it up.

He is very surprised to find that, for once, he might have been wrong.

Funnily enough, sneaking past the outer wall and the heroes standing guard around the property is the easiest part. They are so easily distracted, and the surveillance system has a few glaring blind spots.

It takes Tobirama less than twenty minutes of attempting to sneak around to realize that the claim of having ‘the best security system of the world’ might not have been such a gross exaggeration. There are guards patrolling both outside and inside the building, cameras and motion sensors covering almost every inch of the property, and little to no blind spot or dark corner to sneak through.

Tobirama is impressed.

And, if he is to be truly honest, rather annoyed.

“I don’t have all day,” he hisses quietly, plastered uncomfortably against the ceiling. “How big is this place?”

“ _Pretty big, Master Tide_ ,” Torifu replies blandly, his voice coming with terrible bursts of static. “ _If I’m not reading this map wrong, you still have more than half way to go._ ”

He shifts slightly, his position against the ceiling truly uncomfortable. Sure, it’s a blind spot in the security system, but it’s not a very practical one. He can’t spend the whole time shuffling around the ceiling. Not all corridors are narrow enough to allow that, for one. Then, even if _somehow_ the motion sensors, the guards and the cameras didn’t spot him, there are lights. They’d spot his shadow.

Tobirama can feel his patience dwindling very quickly.

Maybe in another situation, he would have relished the challenge of it. Found the best way to sneak in without being detected, all the way through, no matter how long it took. A part of him does want to try and do it, just to see if he can, regardless of how many hours he’d have to spend there.

He has class the following morning, though, and several unfinished books waiting for him on his bedside table. Besides, he knows himself – sneaking around some more might be fun for another ten minutes, but it would soon grow repetitive and frustrating.

“Breakthrough, prepare to give me directions,” Tobirama murmurs.

“ _Master Tide?_ ” Torifu says, sounding a little alarmed.

“I’m going to do this the faster way,” Tobirama says.

“ _What?_ ” Torifu yelps, voice dissolving into static for a second, and then, frantically, _“Master Tide, what happened to discretion being the safest option?_ ”

“Discretion is good when you don’t want people to know who the thief is,” Tobirama says, and drawls quietly, “Except that’s not the point of this, is it?”

No, he doesn’t care if people know he’s the one who broke into the vault and stole the jewels barely two days before the exposition. The _point_ is to break in, steal the jewels, prove that this security system isn’t as good as advertised – although Tobirama will admit it’s pretty good indeed – and that the hired government guards and heroes are incompetent.

Which. Tobirama hardly needs to get out of his way to do that. They prove their incompetence daily, in many, many ways.

He’s just about to make it even more obvious.

Sneaking around would be satisfying. But how satisfying would it be to go right in, alert everyone of his presence, and still manage to steal the jewels and get away with it?

Pretty satisfying, Tobirama would wager.

“ _I don’t like the sound of that,_ ” Torifu says flatly. “ _I must caution you against doing whatever you’re currently planning to do, Master Tide. You may be silent, but I can hear you plotting anyway._ ”

“Don’t you trust me, Breakthrough?” Tobirama asks, absently checking the corridor.

“ _It’s not a matter of trust_ ,” Torifu says, “ _It’s a matter of sanity._ ”

“Are you telling me you’re up to wait for more than twenty-four hours for me to sneak through the whole secure building, and then possibly another ten hours to get into the vault?” Tobirama wants to know. “Because that’s how long it’ll probably take, if I want to go unnoticed.”

He can hear Torifu hesitating.

“ _Dragon or Root could relay me_ ,” he says, but it’s half-hearted at best.

“And miss-”

A guard suddenly rounds the corner, and Tobirama bites down his offended comment about missing class. They are in _full exam season!_ They can’t afford to miss class! Really, the only reason Torifu can be there, monitoring the whole thing, is because his class is being given two free study days.

“Breakthrough,” Tobirama says, the moment the guard is out of earshot. “You don’t have the time for this. _I_ don’t have the time for this. This is more trouble than it’s worth. I’m doing this to make a statement, after all.”

Torifu sighs in his ear. Static comes through a second later, followed by a quiet. “ _Fine._ ”

“So glad you approve,” Tobirama says dryly.

He waits until the next guard comes into view. Of course, they don’t look up. None of them do. Maybe the whole building has the best security system in the world. But those guards are very far from it.

“Show time,” Tobirama murmurs.

And with a smirk, he lets himself drop on the guard.

 

 

 

“Where the _fuck_ did he come from!” Madara shouts, already taking off at a run through the entrance and back inside.

“We don’t know!” The harried security guard next to him tells him tersely. “One moment everything was fine, the next he just- dropped from nowhere, in the middle of the place.”

She extends her pad to him, showing the looping video. At first it’s nothing important, a guard walking down a corridor… Then suddenly Tide is there, dropping out of nowhere on top of them, and knocking them out efficiently.

As if to add insult to injury, the villain takes a second to dust off his ever-present fur-lined hoodie, and then stares straight at the camera. A jaunty little wave of his hand later, and he’s jogging down the corridor.

“Talk about a security system,” Madara grits out. “Tide is just mocking us.”

“Seems so, sir,” the guard agrees, taking her pad back. She looks pained. “According to the cameras and sensors, he’s making his way to the vault quickly.”

Madara grits his teeth so hard he’s pretty sure the guard hears it.

What good is one of the most advanced surveillance system there is, if the thief doesn’t care to be unseen? Tide clearly isn’t here to be discreet. The fact that he even bothered to sneak in at all, that he waited until he was far enough inside and undetected…

It’s a taunt.

The bastard is literally proving he could have snuck all the way in, unseen, unheard, probably steal the jewels and then snuck out, still unnoticed. But he didn’t. He didn’t, not because he couldn’t, but because he believes it doesn’t matter if they see him. He believes they can’t stop him regardless.

How arrogant.

Madara absently adjusts his gloves, letting the heat build up behind his eyes, and starts walking faster.

If Tide thinks he’ll let him escape so easily, he’s about to be surprised.

“Susanoo, sir,” the security guard says, sounding slightly out of breath. “May I remind you that your powers aren’t exactly the best for indoor fights?”

“I know,” Madara says, because damn it but he does.

His power - well, part of it - is to invoke a gigantic, flaming armour that both protects him and allows him to fight at a very destructive scale. It’s very much _not_ the kind of power you use while in a narrow corridor, unless you want to destroy said corridor.

“I don’t _need_ my power to fight, though,” he reminds the guard.

“Sir, with all due respect,” she says, “This is _Tide_. I doubt any sort of martial arts, or whatever skill in hand in hand combat you have would be useful against a torrent. And unlike you, he won’t hesitate to use his powers and cause property damage.”

Madara stops dead. Damn it, he hates to admit it but she’s right.

She also has more common sense than half of the police force he’s used to work with – all of them too awed by Susanoo to realize that there are things that even he can’t do.

“Right,” he bites out. “Please direct me to the most likely way out.”

“Of course, sir, this way,” the guard says, and starts in another direction.

Madara follows, his eyes burning. It’s a familiar heat, and he relishes in it, relishes in the knowledge that soon he’s going to be able to fight. He’s just got to be in the right place, and be patient.

If he can’t go to Tide, then Tide will come to him.

 

 

 

The alarms blaring in his ears and the red lights are quickly getting on his nerves. As a result, it’s possible that Tobirama puts a little too much strength behind his last punch. The security guard goes sprawling on the floor, next to his four colleagues, out cold, his nose looking very nastily broken.

Tobirama shakes his smarting hand a little, even as he fishes around his belt for a simple sleeping gas. He’s pretty sure he’s knocked out every guard very efficiently, but just in case. He doesn’t want any of them to wake up immediately, after all.

Spraying their faces with the gas takes barely half a minute, after which he turns his attention to the vault door and walls. In the back of his mind, a constant awareness informs him that the whole building is buzzing with activity, like an ant-hill that got kicked. Two groups of ten are heading his way, but are fortunately being delayed by the maze-like corridors.

Still. He’ll have to be fast.

“- _ide, Master Tide?_ ” Torifu’s voice buzzes in his ear, the static worse than ever. “ _Where are you?_ ”

“In front of the vault,” Tobirama tells him. He adds, wryly, “They didn’t fool around with that door.”

Indeed, the whole door is reinforced steel, sounding pretty thick indeed. It has no less than five different security measure. A code pad, ocular recognition, and three different handles, two of them with different keyholes.

Tobirama has to admit, even if he had all the time in the world and brute force on his side, he would probably have some trouble breaking into that vault. The easier way would definitely be to kidnap the owner, and make him open it. Unfortunately, that’s not possible, and there should be more guards coming soon.

Leaving the door be for now, Tobirama turns to the walls. He would be very disappointed if this was just another case of the Invincible Door Fallacy, but at the same time it would make his job here easier.

A few knocks around prove that the walls are reinforced steel as well, and Tobirama purses his lips, looking around the room in thought. While he _could_ try to see if the few experimental lasers and explosives he and Kagami designed work, he doesn’t want to lose more time – and he doesn’t want to show them off in front of the cameras.

He also could try to short-circuit the whole door. Simply will water into the cracks, and it might just open the safe. If it doesn't work, he'll break the cameras and use plan B.

Tobirama’s about to do plan A, when he notices something.

Looking up, he arches a brow.

“I swear,” he says, “that no one can truly be this stupid.”

“ _What is it, Master Tide?_ ” Torifu asks.

Tobirama doesn’t reply. He grabs the firearm off the unconscious body of one of the guards, and fires several rounds at the ceiling, in a neat circle. The bullet holes are obvious, but most importantly there are cracks going from them.

The ceiling is obviously _not_ reinforced steel.

“Damn it,” Tobirama says dejectedly, but gathers a whirlpool of water around him all the same.

“ _Please tell me that they didn’t put an impressive door, only for the walls to be plaster,_ ” Torifu says in his ear.

“Not the walls,” Tobirama says, and makes a sharp gesture up. The water rushes at the bullet riddled ceiling, and with a momentous sound everything comes crashing down. Tobirama stares at the hole above his head in disgust. “But the ceiling.”

“... _How did they think of the walls but forgot the ceiling?_ ” Torifu asks, sounding bewildered.

“Hell if I know,” Tobirama mutters.

He’d frankly like to know that too. To go through so much trouble to protect the vault, only to forget to secure the ceiling? That’s just disappointing.

As much as he’d like to march right out of the room in disgust, to go shake the designer of the security system and ask where his common sense went, he still has jewels to steal. Frankly, after this whole farce, they better look as pretty as they are said to be. Not that he _cares_ if they are, but at least it would make a shiny treasure to compensate for this whole mess.

Hoisting himself up and through the ceiling, Tobirama isn’t even surprised to find a perfect space to crawl through there. Honestly, at this point, he would almost expect a helpful map to tell him how to get out.

Of course, there’s no map, because no one is actually _this_ stupid.

There is, however, a small hole, strange and uneven, leading right inside the vault. Brow climbing high under his mask, Tobirama pauses. That hole can’t be normal. Not even the most stupid person on earth would leave a hole in the ceiling of their vault.

Which means…

Someone got there before him.

Humming, Tobirama lets himself fall through the hole and into the vault – and neatly ducks under the boiling hot stream of mist sent his way. His attacker is fast, though, and a second later there’s someone in his space, red lips curled into a smile right next to his face.

“Give me one reason,” the woman pressed against him says too pleasantly, “Not to kill you right now.”

Tobirama eyes her smile warily, then glances up – the mist he dodged has eaten a small bit of the ceiling.

“Corrosive?” He wonders.

“Yes,” the woman says, pleasantly. She licks her lips, “Believe me, it’d be a painful death.”

“I believe you,” Tobirama agrees. A sharp flick of his fingers, and the mist disperses easily. “But mist is water.”

The woman pauses, then her smile widens. In the rather dark room the glow coming from inside her mouth and down her throat is made even more obvious.

“That’s not a problem,” she says, voice coming out deeper, smoke trailing from her lips.

Dual powers, then, Tobirama guesses. Corrosive mist, and something probably fire related. That’s more problematic. He hums, and lightly presses closer to her. She tenses.

“I’m sure it’s not,” he agrees, smirking at her.

“You bastard,” she says, keeping very still against the blade he’s pressing to her stomach.

“Not the worst I’ve been called,” he assures her, and smirks wider. “Is that sufficient reason not to kill me?”

“You,” the woman tells him, smile still firmly in place with a poison-sharp edge, “just ruined my whole evening.”

The alarm sounds muffled in here, the walls too thick for the sound to come in properly. The red light is more obvious, though. Tobirama tilts his head.

He supposes that pointing out that it’s morning wouldn’t help anything right now.

“I would apologize for that,” he says instead, “But I was in a hurry. I couldn’t afford to take the time to sneak in the whole way.”

“Of course not,” the woman says, and finally her lips twist a little, “You’re no real thief. Just an opportunistic bastard.”

Tobirama simply stares back at her, unapologetic.

The woman makes a disgusted noise, and finally pushes away from him, throwing her hands up. Tobirama puts his blade away, watching her with a little amusement. She’s tall, and clad from head to toe in a rather practical dark outfit, hair put up in a simple but thick braid.

It whips around when she turns to point an accusing finger at him. The lack of proper lighting casts her masked face in red and black shadows, as she marches right back to him.

“Those jewels are mine!” She hisses. “I went through all this trouble, I deserve them! I won’t have you ruin this and steal them from me!”

Tobirama tilts his head, considering.

“I’d like to see them,” he admits. “But if you want to have them so badly, be my guest.”

That makes the woman pause, and for a beat she looks honestly startled, stunned still. She leans back, crossing her arms as she eyes him dubiously.

“You can’t mean that,” she says. “You might not have bothered to do more than waltz in and crash my party, but it still can’t have been that easy. Why would you do that for nothing?”

“Not for nothing,” Tobirama says. “Seeing the heroes flail, and the exposition’s organiser eat his words is more than enough recompense for me.”

“Ha!” The woman barks out a laugh, and grins, uncrossing her arms. “You are a petty, petty man, Tide. I like that.”

“I simply dislike incompetence and unfounded arrogance,” Tobirama says dryly. “Besides, you can’t possibly deny that letting me take the blame for the theft would make your life easier.”

The woman stares at him for a moment, and then starts laughing again. When she finally stops, she shakes her head, lips twisted in a wry smile.

“That, it would,” she agrees. “I take it you have a plan?”

“Please,” Tobirama says. He smirks, “I _always_ have a plan.”

“Confident,” the woman hums, and smiles at him, pretty and red. “I like that too.”

“So glad you approve,” Tobirama says, dry, and gets an amused smile in return. “May I know the name of my temporary partner in crime?”

“Of course,” she says, and all but purrs, “I’m Robin. It’s a _pleasure_ working with you, _partner_.”

“Tide,” Tobirama says, although he knows she already knows that. When she just smiles at him, he rolls his eyes unseen. He can’t help a small, amused twitch of his lips though. “Did you already get the jewels? I don’t see a bag.”

For some reason, this makes Robin laugh. She puts a hand on the zipper over her chest – and then reveals that the bright red part is actually a large pocket disguised as part of her suit. She fishes something glittering out of it, and smirks at him. Tobirama can feel his eyebrow rising. Ingenious.

“Sure you don’t want them?” Robin taunts, rolling stones and golden chains between her fingers.

“I wouldn’t mind having a memento.” Tobirama admits easily. Thinks of his students, who would likely like to have a small piece, and hums. “In fact, if you don’t mind parting with a small part of it, I would be grateful.”

“Oh?” Robin says, tone deceptively light. The way she has tensed is telling, though.

“Yes,” Tobirama says, and smirks at her. “Do you think the security detail would risk damaging the jewels? Especially if…”

He leans over to her, and murmurs his idea quietly enough that no microphone could pick it up. With every word, Robin relaxes. Tobirama leans back, smirking when she hums thoughtfully. She plays with her treasures for a moment, eyeing him obviously, before her smile gains a sharp, amused edge.

“I have the perfect piece for that,” she agrees, looking gleeful. “Tide, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

As she approaches, hands full of gems on strings, smile promising something momentous, Tobirama can’t help but think that it will be an _interesting_ alliance, at the very least.

 

 

 

Madara is exactly where he needs to be when one of the windows explodes outwards with the full force of a wave. Following after the water, Tide jumps out, a figure in all blacks, blue armour and white fur.

Several guards try to take the shot, but the bullets whiz past the water villain harmlessly. It’s a frustrating thing, how Tide manages to _always_ dodge even the smallest and fastest projectile, as if knowing the trajectory before they are even fired. Madara suspects that it’s thanks to his mask – Nara once shared a hypothesis of it being see-through technology. It wouldn’t be strange if the thing had tracking abilities.

Still, nothing is certain. Just one of many mysteries surrounding the man.

Yet, despite probably expecting him, and undoubtedly knowing he was there – Tide always knows, somehow – the villain marks a pause when he sees him.

“Susanoo,” Tide says, and even his strange voice has a hint of surprise there. It’s gone the next instant, though, as the man smirks, infuriating, “I see the agencies have finally come to their senses, and demoted you from hero work. You do make a better guard dog. Your bark is certainly loud enough.”

“Shut _up,_ ” Madara grounds out.

Tide, oddly, does exactly that, raising his arms in the universal motion for peace, a wry smirk on the visible half of his face.

It’s only because Madara is so used to fighting the asshole that he manages to protect himself in time from the geyser rushing at him from under. Laughing, Tide vaults past him while Madara is still busy protecting himself.

Barely thinking, Madara lunges after him. Tide dodges a swipe, lets a torrent of water carry him out of reach of another, and throws a wave at him. Madara brings his arms up, his Susanoo’s amour following suit immediately, and braces against it.

When the assault finally stops, he lunges for the retreating figure again – only for the villain to stop right on top of the property’s wall, looking way too smug. Madara comes to an abrupt halt as well, wary. Experience has taught him that Tide only goes still or silent when he has a plan in the works. That can only mean trouble.

“Wise man,” Tide says, smirking at the flaming hand that has stopped just a few feet from him. “You wouldn’t want to damage the goods, right?”

“What?” Madara calls, frowning.

“ _Susanoo, sir,_ ” the guard from before suddenly calls from the dispatcher on his suit, her voice urgent, “ _You can’t hurt him, you might damage the jewels!_ ”

“ _What!_ ” Madara hisses. “He probably put them in a bag, it’s-”

“ _No, sir, look at him!_ ” The guard insists.

Madara whirls to glare at Tide. The villain just tilts his head to the side.

“Looking for something?” He asks, false-innocence dripping from his words.

Around his neck, amidst the white fur, and on his head, sitting like a crown, red jewels glitter, catching the light of Susanoo’s flames. Madara freezes, eyes wide.

The bastard is bloody well _wearing_ them.

“Shit,” Madara curses.

“ _Don’t worry,_ ” the guard tells him, “ _We’ll get him. Keep him distracted. One bullet will suffice._ ”

“Roger that,” Madara says, and hopes she doesn’t hear his doubt. Tide probably won’t get hit by any bullet today.

Tide, although he can’t have heard, smirks at him with the confidence of a man that knows he has won.

“Don’t you think they suit me?” Tide asks him, lightly. He straightens out again, lifts his chin. The jewels shine under the sunlight, like droplets of ruby caught in his hair. “I think I look rather fetching.”

“ _Keep him talking!_ ” Someone orders through the com.

“You look fucking ridiculous,” Madara grits out, shaking with fury.

Tide gives a dramatic gasp, clutching at his _literal_ necklace.

“You wound me, Susanoo,” he says flatly, obviously insincere. “And here I thought we had something.”

“Oh we had something alright,” Madara says, and bares his teeth at the villain. “Why don’t you let me take you on a date? I’ll give you shiny silver bracelets, and take you to a nice room with bars on the windows!”

Tide lets out a bark of laughter, sounding genuinely amused – although it also sounds irritatingly derisive.

“Not this time, Susanoo,” he says, grinning at him with all his teeth, “As pleasant as I’m sure it would be.”

Several shots ring out, but it’s too late. Tide dives off the wall, gesturing sharply while he does. Before Madara can react, a tidal wave rises up from the previous flood, and comes crashing on both him and the property. Behind him, a few people scream, none of them protected enough against a ton of water dropping on them.

Making a split decision, Madara extends his Susanoo armour to take the brunt of the damage as much as he can.

When he finally manages to look again, Tide is no longer here.

“Is everyone alright?” Madara asks.

“ _Most of us are, yes,_ ” the guard tells him. “ _Thank you_.” Then, after a beat. “ _Tide?_ ”

“Gone,” Madara says. He clenches his fists, “I will go after him.”

“ _Of course,_ ” she replies. " _We'll send trackers with you._ "

Neither of them say it aloud, but Madara thinks that the both of them know that they won’t find Tide again.


	5. Down the drain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who found enough time to write, edit and post this chapter? Me!  
> Once again, I'm in the middle of a trip, and I'm not sure I will be able to update again until the end of it. So expect to have to wait a few months!  
> But in the meantime, enjoy!

Come the next Monday, the newspaper’s front page advertises six coloured pictures of beloved heroes, and the title: _Susanoo, Snowdrift and four other heroes under investigations._

It’s all that Tobirama can do not to laugh out loud, hiding a growing smirk behind said paper. Really, the hero agencies and the law enforcement already make it all too easy to discredit them – and now they’re even doing all the work themselves? If they keep at it, Tobirama won’t even need to do anything, they’ll just prove their own incompetence without any outside help!

Truthfully, he wouldn’t mind. He has much better things to do. Such as help his students prepare for their exams.

With the newspaper in his hands, Tobirama can easily keep his powers activated, the red manifestations on his face hidden from the class’ view. It means that he doesn’t have to look to know that one of the boys just tried to cheat.

“Shouta-kun,” Tobirama calls, “Eyes firmly on _your_ copy, please. You won’t be able to cheat so obviously during the exam.”

“Yes, sensei,” Shouta calls out, and then adds mutinously under his breath, “ _How the hell does he do that?_ ”

Tobirama can feel the boy’s neighbour shrug and shake their head, and feels his hand twitch with the urge to hide his amused smirk.

“ _More importantly_ ,” Shouta’s other neighbour whispers, “ _Did you notice how-_ ”

“Silence in the classroom,” Tobirama reminds them, and adds, “Kyo-chan, focus on your copy instead of chatting with your neighbour.”

“Sorry, sensei!” Kyo yelps.

Tobirama lowers the newspaper just enough to shoot all of his students a flat look above it. He gets a few sheepish smiles in return, while a few of them exchange knowing glances between them before going back to their copies with enough good will. Tobirama decides that whatever this is about, he doesn’t want to know.

As long as they don’t cause trouble, and focus in his class, it’s not his job to investigate whatever silly ideas they have now.

Humming lowly to himself, he raises the newspaper once again, to read the articles. A few of them make good points, while being overly pandering to the heroes – shifting the blame onto Tobirama, and the guards hired by the jewel’s owner. Tobirama purses his lips, moving to the next article.

In the end, there’s nothing that he doesn’t know there, and nothing that truly jumps to him as being of interest. Except perhaps for he small bit written by the Kiri reporter in charge of the case, he supposes. That one throwaway line about the agencies choosing to send high-end heroes with abilities more suited to combat rather than capture, in a setting that should require more delicacy and finesse, was certainly a masterful blend of scathing and yet professional. Accusing while not pointing fingers too obviously – the reporter knew how to navigate the perilous waters of both media and politics, it seemed.

Tobirama notes the reporter’s name, and decides that he’ll keep an eye on any tabloids with her signature. If all of her writing is at the same level, it’ll be an interesting read at the very least.

Letting go of his powers, he waits until he’s sure there’s no way for his manifestations to still be visible, before closing the newspaper.

Immediately, all of his students start scratching at their papers even more frantically than before, probably guessing what he’s about to say. Tobirama waits a bit, counts to ten in his head, before clearing his throat.

“You have twenty seconds to finish your sentences,” He announces clearly. “And then time’s up.”

A chorus of whispered swear words graces his ears, but Tobirama is too amused to reprimand them. Because he’s in a good mood, he even counts thirty seconds before calling out, “Put your pens down!”

All of his students do, only two of them taking the time to finish a word and dot a sentence, before putting down their pens as well. Tobirama can feel his lips quirk just a little. It’s always satisfying to see that his students respect him enough to do what he says without a fuss.

“Good,” Tobirama says. “Now, we have only five minutes before the end of class. Shouta-kun, please gather the papers and bring them here. Everyone else – was there _any_ question about this fake exam?”

Immediately, three hands raise up, even as Shouta starts gathering copies. Tobirama is always happy to see that his students trust him enough to ask questions, as well. He points to the first one.

“Yes?” He says.

“The third question, about the chemical components,” the student immediately says, “It was a bit, erm. Complicated. I’m not sure I understood it correctly.”

Tobirama hums, grabbing his own set of the copies, and a pen to make a note there.

“Was the question too long, or was it one of the terms that confused you?” He asks.

“Er, a bit of both, sensei,” the girl admits, looking faintly embarrassed. “I got very nervous too, so…”

“That’s perfectly understandable, don’t worry,” Tobirama tells her, and is gratified to see her relax just a little. He turns to the rest of the class, “Was this a problem for any of you as well?”

He notices a few nods, and nods to himself, making an annotation next to the question. Simpler directive it is, then. Just to make sure, he looks back at the class.

“On the actual day of the exam, you’ll have five minutes at the start to read the questions and ask your examiner about them if they’re not clear enough,” he says. “When in doubt, ask, even if it seems silly. If _I_ ’m not the examiner, ask as well. I know sometimes it doesn’t help, because we aren’t allowed to answer _fully_ , but if it’s a matter of comprehension no matter who the examiner is, they should be able to help. Alright?”

“Yes, sensei,” the class choruses.

“Good,” he says, and gives them all a small smile. To think that when they all started at the school they wouldn’t give him the time of day. “Next question? Shiro-kun?”

“Yes!” The boy says, and grins at him. “Sensei, is it true that you have a secret twin brother?”

Tobirama resists the urge to roll his eyes. _This_ again.

“No, it’s not true,” he says.

“Idiot,” Kyo calls Shiro, from the back of the class, “It’s a _secret_ for a reason!”

“Oh, right!” Shiro says, nodding to himself.

“Next question _about the test_?” Tobirama asks, before his students can start full-on debating conspiracy theories about his non-existent twin brother.

A smattering of giggles answer him, but thankfully they do subside easily enough, and the next boy he points to _does_ have a question about the test.

Unfortunately, it also involves asking if the theoretical scenario in one of the problems could actually work. Given that it was about an explosion, Tobirama isn’t surprised at all.

Sometimes, Tobirama doesn’t know what he’s going to do with the little menaces.

“No, we are not trying it in real life,” he says, to a chorus of disappointed groans. “The resulting explosion would be both too big, and result in noxious fumes. It’s not safe to try it in a school – _or at home_!”

His glare thankfully still works, and all his students nod, looking disappointed but not mutinous or plotting. Good. Tobirama doesn’t want to be blamed for any idiotic stunt that would end up with one of them in the hospital, or worse.

Just as the bell rings, ten hands suddenly spring in the air. Warily, Tobirama eyes them.

“Yes?” He asks.

“Sensei, is it true that if we all do well enough on the final exam, you’ll show us something cool?” Kyo-chan asks immediately. “The upper classes said you showed them multicoloured fire!”

Tobirama arches a brow.

“Haven’t I showed you enough _cool_ things this years?” He asks wryly.

He’s pretty sure that at this point, the whole school checks with him first when something explodes, and _then_ starts panicking. Not that they are wrong to do so, since he likes showing his students the practical side of science too. It’s boring, otherwise.

“But we want something to celebrate!” Someone whines.

“Yeah!” A few others agree.

“Fine, fine, maybe,” Tobirama agrees. “If you all do your very best and make me proud, I suppose I can find something interesting to show you.”

The entire class cheers. Tobirama is highly unimpressed.

“Now get going,” he says shortly, “Or I’ll be blamed for you being late again, and then I won’t show you anything at all!”

It works wonders, and all his students immediately scramble out of their seat to run to the corridor. Tobirama thinks about reprimanding them for running, but in the end sighs and lets them be. He needs to pick his battles.

His phone buzzes.

Tobirama glances down at it, surprised to find that he’s got a text from his brother.

_Hey Tobi! Do you have next Monday’s morning free? I was thinking we could see each other for a while and talk? I wanted to tell you something!_

Oh. Well. Tobirama blinks, taken aback, then mentally checks his schedule.

_I have a few hours free, yes_. _It would be nice to spend some time together, I look forward to it_ , he types. Hesitates. Deletes it. Types instead, _Are you sure_ you _are free? Last time-_

Frowning, he deletes this as well. Eventually, he sighs, and simply sends:

_I have a few hours free, yes. When and where?_

He shuts off the screen, and puts the phone back in his pocket, knowing that Hashirama isn’t going to answer him immediately. Which is why he’s pretty surprised to find his phone buzzing again.

When he fishes it out, though, the new text is from Danzo and not Hashirama.

_Did you know the theory about your twin brother is back?_

_Yes. You wouldn’t know where it came from, this time?_ Tobirama asks.

_No clue_. Danzo replies.

Tobirama rolls his eyes. _Sure_ Danzo doesn’t. He believes that.

_When you’re done having your fun at my expense,_ he texts back, _tell Kagami and Torifu that I’m expecting all three of you to drop by later._

Danzo doesn’t reply immediately. When he does, it’s with the worrying statement of-

_I want it noted that it wasn’t my idea._

Tobirama blinks suspiciously at his phone. Well. Doesn’t _that_ sound promising.

_What have you done now?_ He asks.

_...Isn’t the meeting about the piercings?_ Danzo asks back. Then, a second later, _Forget I said anything._

Tobirama sets his phone down, and takes his face in his hands.

Sometimes, Tobirama _really_ doesn’t know what he’s going to do with his students.

 

 

 

There’s a coffee stain at the bottom of the wall. It’s an inconsequential detail, nothing of any importance, and yet that’s what Madara has been focused on for the last better half of an hour.

It’s either that or let himself grow furious again, or go insane with apprehension.

So he stares at the brownish stain on the wall, and desperately wonders. Who spilled the coffee, for what reason, did they start a fight over it or did they just stare at the stain and decided that their life sucked anyway and then went on their way, never cleaning up the mess-

It’s possible that Madara is projecting a little. A little lot.

But in his defence, it’s been a week. A week of being benched for his failure to capture Tide – once again – and for losing the mission that had been assigned to him at the same time. The only thing he’d done right was limit property damage, and save the lives of some security guards.

Madara doesn’t regret that, will never regret making the choice of stepping in front of them, even if it meant letting Tide go. But it grates, it _infuriates_ him that everyone else is blaming him for it. As if being a hero is more about finishing the mission, and less about the lives they save.

Hashirama understands, but it seems to Madara that he’s the only one.

He wonders, bitterly, at what point their profession changed from _helping hands_ to _super-powered soldiers_.

That’s all he is, nowadays. A large, flaming warhead that anyone can request and launch at the nearest enemy, and then congratulate him for the resulting explosion – even as they not so subtly ask him if he could try to reduce the damage he does to the buildings around him. Madara hates that, hates that he has become little more than a weapon.

There’s a mocking voice in his head, telling him _I told you so_ that sounds like Izuna’s, and Madara grits his teeth and tunes it out, doesn’t let himself think about his brother. That's a dark hole that he doesn't want to fall into.

He’s very glad, _so_ very glad, when the door to the office opens up at this moment, distracting him.

“Ah, Uchiha,” Saito Kanaye says, looking at him with a pinched look on his face. “I was told you were here.”

“Sir,” Madara says, immediately standing up and bowing to the head of the heroic department. “I apologize for not announcing myself. I just wished to talk to you.”

“I know what you want,” Saito says, expression hard. “It’s out of my hands, Uchiha. You know I cannot do anything about you being benched.”

“Sir, please, you know I didn’t-” Madara

“Spare me,” Saito says, and sighs. His harsh expression melts into something tired, even as he looks to the ceiling as if wishing for patience. He turns back to Madara, “I suppose, I have ten minutes. Come in, Uchiha.”

Madara doesn’t have to be told twice, and follows his superior nervously into his office. Strange, how after all those years being told to sit in front of a desk turns him back into a rebellious high-schooler called to a teacher’s office.

Saito sits down behind his desk, and sighs again, not looking at Madara as he pours himself a glass of water. He looks as though he wishes dearly it were whisky in his glass instead. Madara is suddenly struck by the thought that perhaps it’s not just him and his colleagues, who have been tired and harassed these past months. Not just him who is annoyed by the higher-ups’ decision to bench him when they _need_ all the people they can get.

“When you say it’s out of your hands,” Madara says, waiting for Saito to put down his drink before talking, “What do you mean?”

“I mean exactly that,” Saito tells him, shortly.

Madara just stares expectantly. For a moment, his superior looks at his drink and not at him. Then he sighs, and expounds.

“This mission, as you know, wasn’t just your run the mill ‘arrest villain, save people, keep thing safe’ mission. It was, above anything else, a political move,” Saito tells him, and waves a hand, “I’ll spare you all the intricacies of the decision, and all the meetings that went into that, but the fact that _we_ , the Konoha Hero Agency, were called for protection was a big deal. _You_ were requested, specifically, and we _couldn’t refuse_ if we didn’t want to lose all of the support we’ve managed to get lately.” He pauses, and meets Madara’s eyes, expression annoyed. “That reform? It took _months_ of arguing to get the politicians to agree to a little more budget, in response to the growing villain and vigilante activity. The guy who owned those jewels, who _hired_ us? He’s a big player in that.”

“The guy’s a moron!” Madara exclaims, shocked.

“Many rich politicians are,” Saito says wryly. “Money and power are the only language they understand, as well as threats to their lives – or way of life. The problem is, money and power are what _we_ need to work as well. So, by fucking _this_ up, we have fucked up one of our support lines.”

“But-”

“Not only that,” Saito continues, raising a hand to interrupt him, clearly not done explaining – or ranting, “but the support line of _all_ hero agencies! You, alone, weren’t responsible for this. Every hero on the scene proved to be useless against Tide, _alone_ , infiltrating the building, stealing the jewels, and then absconding with them. Do you know how _incompetent_ this makes us look?”

Madara grits his teeth, and nods. He has been read the riot act several times already. By many different people. He knows very well how much he – and the others on scene – fucked up. Hell, the media has been having a field day. For all that their sharpest articles have been censored by the agencies’ public department, they’ve still managed to convey a lot of disdain for the heroes on the scene and Madara in particular.

Saito gives him an almost sympathetic look, but it’s undermined by how tired and annoyed he looks. Madara’s fuck up, Madara realizes, has fucked up a _lot_ more than just his own situation.

As if to prove his point, Saito sighs again, and goes on.

“We’re grasping at straws to keep what little we managed to get,” he tells Madara tiredly. “But pointing out that the army, the guards, the so-called _perfect security system_ didn’t work either isn’t helping right now. The government has ideas, Uchiha.”

“That sounds like a bad thing,” Madara says, and tries for dry but only ends up sounding apprehensive.

“Yeah, well, greedy politicians getting ideas about justice systems, law enforcement and combat unit is never good, in my experience,” Saito says grimly. He sighs, and shakes his head, “But whatever they are planning, at this point, all we can hope to do is smile, nod, and agree to whatever they offer as long as it keeps us running. We don’t have other options, any more. Our legs were cut under us, our hands are tied, and the hand that feeds us can very easily stop. It’s a shitty situation all over.”

“Sounds like,” Madara agrees, because _yeah, it is_. And his mind is still trying to wrap itself around it, but- “Sir, with all due respect, what does this have to do with me being benched?”

Because, sure, it’s a shitty situation, and Madara played a hand in making it this shitty. But in the end being benched doesn’t depend on politics. Or at least, in his experience, it doesn’t usually do.

Saito grabs his glass, and takes a long sip of water. Once more, he looks down at it as though wishing it were something stronger, before turning back to Madara.

“Everything. It has _everything_ to do with it,” he says, succinctly. “I’ll be frank, Uchiha. You’re not the only one who fucked up, and we all know it. The people who hired us, who didn’t listen to our recommendations, who ignored our strategic head’s advice- they’re just as much at fault as everyone else who let Tide slip between our fingers. Hell, we had no way of knowing this would be something _Tide_ would get interested in – it’s not his usual gig – and no one planned accordingly.”

Of course, Madara reflects wryly, as Saito takes another gulp of water, no one ever knows what Tide will do, or what his usual gig actually is. The villain does robbery as much as he does kidnappings or random destruction of property.

Tide is an _asshole_.

They're better served expecting him  _everywhere_ rather than not excepting him at all.

“The thing is,” Saito goes on, after putting his glass back down, “You’re the easiest scapegoat for all the higher-ups that are scrambling to cover their asses. A well-known figure, a somewhat volatile hero- don’t look at me like that, Uchiha, your temper is well known. And while I know better than let your history cloud my judgement, most other people don’t _know you_. And, frankly, they don’t care either. You’re easy to pin the blame on, and they aren’t going to stop to think if that’s a nice or right thing to do or not. They need a scapegoat, and you’re it. They need to be seen _doing_ something, and benching you is it.”

A pause, and a flat look at Madara, before Saito sighs.

“In the end, that’s what it boils down to,” he says.

Madara can feel his temper boil under his skin, simmering to a rage so hot it grows cold. His sharingan flickers, but in front of him Saito doesn’t flinch. The man, as fifty percent of the population, has no powers to call his own. He does have balls of steel, though, and a terrific aim with the gun hiding under his desk.

He also has been working as Madara’s superior for years, and knows Madara won’t attack him, even if his temper slips up.

It’s more than most of his colleagues can say. Madara is aware of it. It’s nothing new.

All his life, he was whispered about, told he couldn’t do anything right or good. Not with his temper, his loud voice, his scary eyes and faces when angered. His classmates called him a villain-to-be. Only Hashirama ever thought that even with his destructive power, his explosive temper, he could become something _good_. A hero.

In the end, Hashirama was right to believe in him, because Madara is _there_. He made it. He has been a hero for years, has been saving people, helping them, done so much good-

Except apparently, it’s not enough.

“They’re saying I let Tide escape on purpose,” Madara says, flatly.

“They’re saying many things,” Saito says, looking unamused, “but yes. It’s one of the things they are implying, no matter what anyone else says about it. With your history, it’s an easy excuse for them to use, and they are using it, no matter that you were proven innocent on all charges back then.”

Madara grits his teeth. All those years, and what happened with Izuna still comes back to haunt him.

“My brother-” he starts, harshly.

“What happened to your brother,” Saito interrupts him, sharply, eyes pinning him, “was a tragedy, Madara.”

Madara startles at the address, and Saito’s lips draw into a thin line. He suddenly stands up, and comes to the other side of the desk, putting both hands on Madara’s shoulders. Gripping him tight – a grounding, surprisingly comforting gesture.

“Listen to me,” Saito tells him, looking him right in the eye, “No one in this agency with two working brain cells believes you had anything to do with what happened to your brother. I know, all too well, how that sort of loss affects people, Madara. I know even better how much _guilt_ it brings. That anyone would think to blame you, on top of that, is disgusting.”

“But they do it,” Madara cuts him off, and brushes off the hands on his shoulder, standing up abruptly and letting the chair clatter to the ground. He growls, “They do blame me, for something I never did, that I’d _never do_ , use it to cover their asses and bench me!”

Saito doesn’t reply immediately, expression pinched once more.

He doesn’t deny it, either, because it’s the truth.

Madara makes a disgusted sound, and turns, furiously grabbing the chair and putting it back up and against the desk. It shouldn’t get to him that much, he knows. He should be able to look past it, after all this time.

But any mention of his brother always makes him a little irrational, and given that they’re using it, using _Izuna_ to help their story, to keep him benched and useless and restless-

Madara wants to break something.

“I can’t even _do_ anything!” He snarls, not looking at Saito, gripping the back of his chair so tight his knuckles turn white. “I just have to- stay quiet and take it? That’s it?”

“Madara-” Saito starts.

“Don’t,” Madara grits out. “If there’s no fixing this, then I don’t want to hear your platitudes, sir, as well-meant as they are.”

Saito doesn’t answer, and Madara grits his teeth tight until his jaw hurts. Closes his eyes, and wishes he could just _do_ something.

But there’s nothing to be done.

As if to prove him wrong, Saito suddenly hums.

“I suppose, there is a way to fix this,” Saito says, tone thoughtful. Almost too quiet, as well, and Madara is pretty sure the man is thinking aloud, not meaning for him to hear.

“What?” He demands, turning around to stare at his superior.

Saito blinks, and then pins him under a sharp look. Considering.

“It won’t be easy, and won’t be _nice_ , either,” he eventually says, mouth pulling into a dissatisfied frown, and starts pacing. Saito gestures vaguely as he moves, and explains, “Those asshats in office are using this whole thing to try and push some policies on us, and new ways to deal with things. As I told you, it has everything to do with you – but also with the other heroes. Since _our_ means of capture do not work, they’re offering new, _better_ means of capture.” A disgusted scoff. “Well, according to them. Me, and most other heads of agencies and department have been blocking them at every turn. Trying to find an alternative… But in the end, we’re all aware that we’re just buying time. They’ll get what they want in the end.”

Madara stays silent. He’s not sure where he comes in, in that equation. It’s not like he has any sway on politics, like he has any _say_ either.

That’s the whole point, isn’t it? He’s just the weapon to throw at enemies, and to discard like so much trash when people grow unhappy with him.

Saito looks back at him, pausing in his pacing.

“With you benched, Madara, our agency is less efficient, and they’ll eventually use it against us,” he says. He looks away again, gaze on the wall but not seeing it. “I told you. I want you unbenched as much as you do. But this won’t happen, unless we make… concessions.”

“Concessions,” Madara echoes, not liking this at all. Saito looks as though the word _hurts_ him. “What sort of concessions?”

“If I can word it as _us_ helping _them_ , it might work,” Saito says, and it sounds like he’s thinking aloud again. Madara wonders if the man even heard him. “Tell them that we’ll agree to some of their _stupid idea_ , as long as they unbench you.” He snorts, humourless. “Hell, I can probably even swing it as though with this _favour_ they’ll do _you_ , you’ll help support said stupid idea among your colleagues.”

Madara scowls.

“You don’t actually expect me to support whatever this idea of theirs is, do you?” He asks.

Saito blinks, and turns to him. It seems he was talking more to himself than to Madara, planning.

“Of course not,” Saito snorts again. Gives Madara a wry look, “All I’m trying to do, here, is get the best of a shitty situation. It’s all I _ever_ do, really. Get you back to work, get the stupid politicians out of our hair with the impression they just won a great victory… And all we have to do in return is pretend that whatever they’ll ask of us is actually a fantastic idea.”

Worded like that, it sure sounds better than any other option Madara has. Frankly, he’d do a lot worse than kiss a politician’s arse if it got him unbenched.

Still.

“ _What_ exactly, are they trying to do?” He asks, frowning.

“You let me worry about that,” Saito tells him, looking tired but with an edge of determination in his tone as well. He waves Madara away, already turning to the door, “In fact, let me handle everything. I’ll get you back to work in the next few days. All _you_ have to do, Uchiha,” Saito pauses, and looks at him with a steely expression, even as lets Madara out of his office, “Is be the best damn hero this agency ever had.”

Madara nods, straightening his spine. He looks back at his superior, jaw set.

“I won’t let you down, sir,” he says, and bows down. “Thank you, _so much_ , for this opportunity.”

“Yes, well,” Saito says, and when Madara looks up, the man’s lips are twitching a little up. “Don’t make me regret it, Uchiha. Now scram, I have politicians to butter up, _gods help us all_.”

Madara grimaces, and wisely decides to retreat.

That’s something he’s more than happy to leave to Saito.

 

 

 

The park his brother chose as a meeting point is nice at this hour of the day, although Tobirama had his doubts before. It’s still early enough that there aren’t too many people out and about, and with the sun tentatively shining through the occasional cloud the day promises to be beautiful. Sighing, Tobirama lets himself relax, leaning back on the bench he’s sitting on, and watches a woman walk her dog along the pond’s side.

He doesn’t need to look at his watch to know the time it is, having checked barely a minute ago.

Hashirama is fifteen minutes late.

Tobirama isn’t sure why he expected any different. Why he expected him to actually show up, let alone on time. Hashirama never does, barely has the time for family dinners, or even to go home on week-ends according to Mito.

Maybe, if his stupid brother doesn’t show up at all, Tobirama should call her. Mito was his friend before she was Hashirama’s wife, after all, for all that they grew apart with the years and all the responsibilities that came with them. It’s been way too long since they took the time to meet up. They could catch up on lost time, just the two of them. Maybe patch up the bridges that they let fall into disrepair.

The thought falls to the side when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Tobirama fishes it out, and pauses, frowning down at the caller ID.

Hashirama.

He has a feeling he knows exactly what his brother wants to tell him. He still takes the call, putting the phone to his ear.

“Hashirama,” he greets, and tries not to let anything show in his voice as he reprimands, “You’re late, brother.”

“Tobi,” Hashirama greets him back, and there’s no mistaking his guilty tone, even with how jovial he tries to make the hated nickname. “I’m so sorry, something came up at work and-”

Tobirama closes his eyes. He knew it. He had _known_ , expected this, and yet he’s still disappointed. How many times does he have to try, how many times does this have to happen, for him to catch a clue?

More the fool him, really, for daring to hope for a different outcome.

“-Blitz has been sighted away from Kumo, near Konoha, and with Madara still benched after the last debacle I’m the only one who can really fight him if he tries something,” Hashirama prattles on anxiously in his ear, unaware of the hopes he’s just dashed yet again.

“I understand,” Tobirama cuts him off. “The world needs saving, and villains wait for no man.”

How ironic, really. He _had_ waited. Foolishly had thought that for once Hashirama might change his priorities.

Tobirama looks up at the sky.

“I’m really, really sorry, Tobirama,” Hashirama says. “I know it was my idea, and I know I _promised_ to be there, but-” He marks a pause, and Tobirama can imagine him biting his lip, looking so terribly guilty – but in the end, never guilty enough to actually change his ways. “I- I’ll make it up to you.”

“I’m sure you will,” Tobirama placates him. There’s a bird flying overhead, lazily enjoying some wind current. “You said you wanted to meet to talk about something. Can it wait, then?”

There’s silence over the line for a second. Then Hashirama replies.

“Ah, no, I don’t-” he starts, still sounding faintly guilty. “I just. I thought about what you said the other time, after dinner.”

“Oh?” Tobirama says, and can’t help a wry smile. “And do you have an answer for me, then?”

“Yes.” This time, he sounds surer. “I’m happy. I love my job. Even when it’s hard and tiring. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

No, Tobirama knows that he would. The world, and its peace, takes precedence. What Hashirama wouldn’t trade it for, is his family.

“That’s good,” Tobirama says. “I’m glad, then, Hashirama. As long as you have fun, as long as you’re happy, then that’s all I ever wanted.”

“Aw, Tobi,” Hashirama starts, sounding on the verge of tears, the ridiculous idiot. A sound cuts him off, shrill and piercing. Hashirama sighs. “I’m sorry. I have to go. Bye, Tobi!”

“Bye,” Tobirama replies.

The tonality is his only answer.

For a long moment, Tobirama just stares at the sky, his finger hovering over the ‘end call’ button. The sun is shining. There are birds flying. He can hear children shrieking in joy not too far away.

It’s a nice day.

With a sigh, he ends the call, and then looks at his screen. It takes a second to scroll through his contacts, another to find Mito’s number.

She takes the call after barely two tonalities.

“Tobirama?” She asks, sounding surprised. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Hashirama? Did something happen?”

“Hello Mito,” Tobirama greets her, and tries not to sound tired. He thinks he’s failing, “Hashirama got held up at work, so I’ve got a few hours free. I was wondering if you wanted to drop by? It’s a nice day.”

“Oh,” Mito says softly. For a beat, she stays silent, and Tobirama can only wonder at what she must be thinking. Then, her voice gaining a determined edge, “I suppose I have nothing better to do. I’ll be there in five. Do you want something to drink?”

“If you’re getting something, then a tea, please,” Tobirama says.

“Black, no sugar?” Mito asks, her voice faintly teasing.

Tobirama can’t help a slight smile.

“You know me too well,” he says.

“I’ll be right there,” Mito says.

“I’ll be waiting,” Tobirama replies, and closes his eyes against the sunny sky, hanging up.

It’s a beautiful day.


	6. Pebbles in a pond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a midterms exam tomorrow, so guess who suddenly got the inspiration to do anything but study? That's right. This platypus.  
> Not a very exciting chapter, but it does pave the way for something that should hopefully be very exciting in a few chapters. ;)  
> As always, I do not know when the next update will be, please be patient with me!  
> Enjoy!

The thing about Konoha, Tobirama reflects, is that it’s built wide but not very high. There are tall buildings, of course, but nothing too extreme. Certainly not like the skyscrapers in Kumo.

The Kiri towers might not be as high as those, but they are still higher than anything in Konoha. It’s a nice change of scenery, to be able to climb up and actually see everything from up there. From that height, the city lights look like fireflies in the distance, half hidden by the low clouds that always haunt the place.

Really, Tobirama likes Kiri well enough.

A shame that Kiri doesn’t like him much. Or rather its resident supervillain.

Tobirama can already picture the annoyance that going back to work tomorrow will be, with his bruised ribs aching each time he so much as breathes. Still, he’s in a pretty good mood, given that he managed to give as good as he got.

The Clam is going to be feeling it tomorrow.

“I heard that you and The Clam got into a disagreement, today,” a voice suddenly speaks up from behind him.

“You, and the whole world,” Tobirama says, and tosses a small glance over his shoulder, watching the red-head melt out of the shadows. “That man should have gone into acting, he’s more dramatic than most heroes.”

“And here I thought it was a _male_ thing,” Robin teases.

“Should I be offended?” Tobirama wonders, and obligingly shifts a little to allow the woman to sit besides him on the edge of the Tower.

“You hide it better than most,” Robin allows, tone full of humour. “But you _are_ pretty dramatic, you must admit.”

“Acting,” Tobirama says, deadpan. Shrugs, “People always pay more attention to showy actions, and fail to notice what matters in time. It’s useful.”

“Hm, like they look at you making a grand exit while I escape unscathed, you mean?” Robin says, and then chuckles, red lips stretching. “Don’t lie, Tide. You didn’t need to be _that_ showy. And I’ve investigated a little- you’re always a little extra.” She smiles prettily in the face of his unimpressed look. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not a bad thing. Villains always _should_ have better presentation.”

“I’m glad I meet your standards,” Tobirama snorts.

“Mhm, I’m sure you are,” Robin agrees. She puts a finger to her lips, giving him a pretty red smile. “I still wonder, what is it that you hide behind those flashy actions?”

“Mh, I wonder,” Tobirama says, and smirks when she gives a snort.

Really, as though he would go spilling all of his secrets so easily.

For a moment, neither of them says anything more, apparently content to sit together and watch the city below them. There’s wind picking up, messing with their hair, causing them to shift on the edge. But neither of them move, not worried.

Tobirama isn’t afraid to fall. Robin, it seems, isn’t either.

Strange, Tobirama reflects, how he doesn’t mind her presence. Most of his fellow villains are people he can’t stand, or with whom he has… complicated history. At best, he barely knows them but he also wouldn’t give them the time of the day if they asked.

The Clam, for example, isn’t really someone he knows. Yet, every time they’re in the same neighbourhood and have the opportunity to ruin each other’s plans or day, they take it gleefully. Tobirama has no idea why, but the Clam just… rubs him the wrong way. Whether it’s because of his territorial tendencies, or the fact that he feels like water but _almost_ and _greasy_ to Tobirama’s senses, Tobirama isn’t sure.

All he knows is that any time he sees the Clam, he has the very real urge to drown him, and always gives it best shot. At this point, it’s just how they say hello to each other.

Today was no exception – they just happened to have their cursory meet-and-beat in a rather public space, which caused some chaos. Not that Tobirama is going to complain about that, or the Clam either, he expects, even if neither of them will ever admit to agreeing on anything.

It was fun, almost. A break in the day’s monotony.

Robin, though, hasn’t tried to attack him yet – as long as one doesn’t count the time during the heist, but those were extenuating circumstances. She’s not trying to rope him into more plans, not asking nosy questions either. Not even _talking_ , and that’s more than Tobirama can say of many people.

They never know to appreciate the silence.

Yes, Robin, this far, isn’t bad company.

“Here,” Tobirama eventually says, breaking the comfortable silence between them. He fishes out glittering jewels from one of his pockets, and hands them to Robin. “As promised, the remainder of your loot. Thank you for letting me borrow them.”

“It was no trouble,” Robin says, accepting them.

She pauses, inspecting them for any sign of trickery. Smart – Tobirama approves. Once she has made sure there’s nothing wrong with her treasure, Robin puts them in her chest pocket.

“Besides,” she says, looking at Tobirama with a sly smile, “red suits you. You made a very fetching picture, covered in gold and rubies.”

“Why, thank you,” Tobirama says, a bit amused - Madara’s face at the sight of the jewels certainly had been more than worth it.

“Is that why you kept the earrings?” Robin asks lightly.

“Well, I figured you wouldn’t miss such a small piece,” Tobirama says, not even pretending he doesn’t know what she means. “I like having a small memento.”

More like his students liked that. Easy for them to cut the jewellery into small gold and ruby pieces, ready to be transformed into something else. Kagami, always one to be a little cheeky, pierced his ears. Among several earrings and silver hoops, no one paid any mind to the singular red stud there. Torifu had gotten a belly-button piercing. Danzo, although he had told Tobirama it wasn’t his idea, was not to be outdone, and had pierced his tongue.

Tobirama had given the lot of them his best unimpressed stare for that, and had refused to get any sort of piercing – no matter how much Kagami insisted that a lip piercing would suit him. Instead, because he’s a sensible person, Tobirama put his own piece of gold and ruby on a thin but sturdy chain.

He’s wearing it right now, a simple necklace that no one will ever see accidentally – and even if they did, they wouldn’t pay it any mind.

Tobirama turns, and fishes said necklace out from his black turtleneck collar, showing the simple red stone hanging there to Robin. Then, with a thin smirk, he hides it under his clothes again.

“I wouldn’t have taken you as the type to keep trophies,” Robin muses. “What do you know.”

Tobirama hums, non-committal. He isn’t the type, not really. But his students insisted they needed to match each other, and well. Tobirama remembers all too well that fear they all had that graduation would separate them. Accepting to have a matching set is his own way of assuring them that he’s still part of their team, even if in a different manner.

They are growing up, after all. Only Torifu isn’t of age yet, and that won’t be long. They will need to stretch their wings, and fly a little alone, Tobirama knows. Figure out what they want to do, who they want to be, outside of his influence.

Build their own life, even if he’ll always be there for them if he can help it.

“You know,” Robin suddenly says, “I’m surprised. You’re different in person.”

“Are you telling me you had expectations for me?” Tobirama asks, bemused by the concept.

“Not really,” Robin says, and laughs, “I’m a thief, you’re one of those showy men that are on TV every Tuesday. I was actually hoping that I’d never meet you, otherwise I fully expected to have to kiss my discretion goodbye.”

“Please,” Tobirama huffs, “I know how to be discreet.”

“Yes, so I am realizing,” Robin agrees. She hums, wistful, “The man with a plan, and two different distractions to attract the gaze away from your true goal. How much of the image you present the world is true, and how much is yet another distraction, I wonder?”

Back to this again? Tobirama looks at her from the corner of his eye. There must be a point to this.

“I wonder,” Tobirama echoes once more, and gives Robin an amused smirk when she turns to look at him.

Robin doesn’t even look offended, or annoyed. Just laughs, sounding genuinely amused by his non-answer.

“A mysterious man,” she says, sounding teasing, and smiles coyly at him, “I like that.”

“Oh?” Tobirama says, and arches a brow where she can’t see it.

“Yes, I do love a good mystery,” Robin says. Smirks, “I’ll have fun with this one, I think.”

“You should be careful with where you dig,” Tobirama replies lightly. “Some people don’t take easily to other people snooping around.”

 _He_ certainly doesn’t. He values his privacy, even more so with his criminal activities. He may not mind Robin’s company, but if she oversteps Tobirama will drown her himself.

“Mmh, I know, but somehow, I don’t think you’re the type to take offense to that,” Robin replies, leaning back a little.

Tobirama pauses, a little surprised by this absurd idea. He makes a vague inquisitive noise. Robin doesn’t look at him. She leans back fully, until she’s lying on her back on the roof, next to him. She looks up at the sky, and hums.

“You like competent people, don’t you?” She says simply.

And. Well. That much is very true.

Tobirama does very much like competent people. That’s one of the reasons he doesn’t mind Robin, he supposes – she’s a frighteningly good thief, who almost got to thwart his plan with the police none the wiser. Hell, if he had decided on going to steal the jewels a day later, Tobirama would probably have been blamed for her heist, and would have no idea who the actual thief was.

Tobirama hums, giving a small amused smirk in the thief’s direction. He supposes that it wouldn’t hurt to see her try and investigate.

Robin glances at him, and smirks back.

“I’ll take that as permission,” she says.

“More like curiosity,” Tobirama admits. Hums as he looks down at the mist-filled city, and says, “Maybe we could make it a challenge?”

“Oh?” Robin says, and there’s a sharp edge to her amusement, “You think you’ll manage to find anything about me?”

“You think I won’t?” Tobirama retorts, and doesn’t restrain a laugh when all she does is grin at him, teeth bared.

“I think this will be fun,” she says, and raises a gloved hand towards him. “I’ll give you a month.”

“And we’ll meet up here again?” Tobirama asks.

“How about the roof of the Konoha Opera, instead,” Robin suggests. “To keep things interesting.”

“Why not,” Tobirama says, and takes her hand, gripping it firmly. “A month.”

“It’s a date,” Robin grins.

“You wish,” Tobirama tells her, and she gasps in offense.

“ _What do you mean, I wish I could get myself a date, you_ -”

Tobirama snorts, and pushes himself off the edge before Robin can grab him to strangle him like it looks like she wants to. Her annoyed voice follows him as he falls, and Tobirama lets out a breathless laugh, before pulling a cloud of mist towards him, to catch his fall.

Under the dark sky, no one sees him float away in a bubble of water wrapped in a solitary cloud, and no one sees his delighted expression.

A challenge. How interesting.

 

 

 

There’s someone calling him. He can’t focus on it, though, eyes pinned to the TV screen.

“Phoenix.”

In the latest news report, a forgettable journalist describes how, despite having let Tide escape from what they have taken to call the _most_ _daring heist of the century,_ Susanoo is getting reinstated as a hero. He stares and stares, drinking in the sounds, the words, the pictures of the villain, of the hero, of everyone else involved.

“Phoenix!”

There’s something in his lungs. It feels like anticipation, like ash smoke, like a spark.

“Oi, Phoenix!”

He doesn’t react, still staring at the screen. There’s no mistaking it, he thinks. That hair. That face – or, well, what little is visible… That’s…

“Phoenix, are you listening damn it?” His cellmate shakes him by the shoulder.

He turns from the screen, and gives the annoying man a glare. This one is new, and he doesn’t know his name. Not that it’ll matter. In the end, like the others, he won’t last long.

No one lasts long as Phoenix’s cellmate, for some reason.

“Shut up,” He murmurs, turning back to the TV. “I’m watching.”

“Bah,” his cellmate spits, “Barely two days with the privilege of a TV, and you’re brainless already? You know, when they told me I’d get to share a cell with _the_ Phoenix, I imagined you’d be much scarier. But you’re just-”

“I said,” he interrupts, softly, coldly, “Shut. Up.”

He can see, from the corner of his eyes, his cellmate puff up in offense, and sighs. Absently clenches his fingers, then extends them again, stretching his muscles carefully.

“You,” his cellmate growls, “Got too arrogant, Phoenix.”

His hand slams on his shoulder, and Phoenix – _ha, Phoenix, what a stupid, stupid name_ – stills. Looks back at his foolish cellmate.

He really, really shouldn’t react if he wants to keep his visiting rights. But, ah well. No one visits him anyway.

He hums, and feels the spark in his lungs ignite his very blood. It’s a simmering heat, nothing like the roaring inferno he was once capable of but- it’s familiar all the same.

He grins, and grabs the hand on his shoulder.

“You’re very annoying,” he tells his suddenly wary cellmate, and grins wider at him. “I think you should be silent.”

His cellmate looks like he’s hesitating, and then looks determined.

“You don’t have your powers, Phoenix,” he barks. “You’re just a useless twink-”

The laugh escapes him before he can restrain it. That’s true, he doesn’t have any power any more.

His cellmate screams when Phoenix snaps the fingers in his grip casually, and smiles at him.

Not that he needs any power to kill stupid people.

 

 

“Ha,” he sighs, satisfied, “That was fun. We should do it again, some time.”

That was fun, but it was over too soon.

He watches the tv screen. The news are gone, in favour of a documentary on birds of prey. Humming, he leans against the wall, watching the pretty birds in flight. Free.

“Maybe I should do that,” he murmurs, to the body on the floor. “Prison is really boring. Getting free would be much better.”

There’s no answer. But then again, he’s not expecting any.

“Hm, yes,” he says, a bit louder, and smiles at the TV. “Let’s do that.”

It should be fun.

 

 

 

When the door opens, Tobirama’s first thought is that Mito looks awfully tired. Her hair is out of its usual buns, flowing in gentle red waves down her back, and she has only the barest hint of make up on her face. Mostly concealer, only sort of hiding the shadows under her eyes.

“Tobirama,” Mito greets him, her polite expression growing a bit more genuine. She opens the door wider, and takes his hands in hers, leading him inside, “I’m very glad you could drop by. I know it’s exam season, and that you’re busy-”

“Nonsense,” Tobirama denies, and tugs on their joined hands to get her closer. He leans in, and kisses her cheek gently, “You sounded like you needed the company, and I needed a break either way.”

“Charmer,” Mito accuses wryly. “Some days, I wonder why I married your brother instead of you.”

“Maybe because you know you could never stand my awful tea drinking habits,” Tobirama says, not rising to the bait.

“True,” Mito says. Her smile grows brittle, “I still wonder.”

“Please,” Tobirama says, sighing. “You’ve been in love with Hashirama since high school. You’re not the kind to get the second best option. Besides, we really would have killed each other after a day.”

That gets Mito to laugh a little, a victory, even as small as it is. She finally lets go of Tobirama’s hands, and closes the door behind them, locking it.

Tobirama notes the habit, but doesn’t comment. If Mito has decided to become a bit warrier, then _he’s_ certainly not going to complain about it. He likes his family and friends safe.

“You’re hardly the second best option, Tobirama,” Mito tells him, leading the way towards the living room. “You’re just not my type of man.”

“Thank the gods for small mercies,” Tobirama says, deadpan, and hides a grin behind a hand when Mito turns a look on him.

“You’re an ass,” she tells him, and slaps his side lightly.

She turns away again, thankfully not noticing his wince. Tobirama gingerly rubs at his ribs. Perhaps antagonizing or teasing Mito could wait until he heals.

“I made tea,” Mito says, walking into the living room. “And bought biscuits.”

“You didn’t make them?” Tobirama says, “I’m shocked.”

This time, he wisely side-steps the light punch headed his way, letting his shoulder get hit instead. Mito mutters something about being able to bake, simply having no _time_ for it, and heads for the sofa.

Tobirama debates whether to remind her of that time she almost burned down pasta water, and decides against it. His poor ribs are already suffering enough.

Besides, who knows. Maybe she has improved since they were younger.

“So,” Tobirama says, sitting on the sofa in front of her, and eyeing her cautiously, “Did you want to talk about whatever it is that Hashirama did that put you in a bad mood, or would you prefer to talk about something else.”

“What makes you think Hashirama is the reason I’m in a bad mood?” Mito asks, narrowing her eyes at him.

Tobirama arches a brow, calling out her bullshit silently. He would have to be a moron to miss the obvious.

He would bet that his brother’s suddenly busier schedule is the reason behind it.

Mito sighs.

“I’d rather not talk about him right now,” she says. “I called you for a distraction, mostly. Maybe later.” She looks up at him. “Tell me about you, Tobirama. We barely caught up last time. How are things going at the school?”

Tobirama gives her a look, but allows the change in topic. He tells her about the kids in his classes, about the progress they are making, about how he’s hopeful about the percentage of them that will manage to pass the exams with not too much trouble. He’s already preparing some sort of practical science experiment to show them as a reward.

What he never tells anyone in his classes – and what some of his colleagues have adopted as well – is that the fake tests he’s giving them constantly to help them prepare are much harder than the actual final tests. It does add to their stress, though.

Fortunately, their new support policies have been successfully implemented, and the students are slowly growing used to seeking out their help when things are too much. Either at school or at home.

Maybe it’s not much, maybe it’s not enough, but Tobirama likes to think that they are making a difference anyway.

“I think you are,” Mito tells him, when he says as much. “I think it’s admirable, really, that you and the other teachers are willing to do so much to help the students in your care.”

“I got lucky with my place of employment,” Tobirama admits wryly.

And he did.

The Headmistress does not believe in hiring teachers that do not care for teaching. With the government and the educational board’s stupidity regarding the budget, who she hires is possibly her only free decision that isn’t impeded by cost and other stupid rules and restrictions. So she does her best with what she has, and Tobirama respects her a great deal for that.

He also respects her even more for her efforts in making this support program a reality. Tobirama doesn’t think every other school in the city, let alone the country, has the same care for their students.

Sure, none of them are true therapists, but all of the teachers were willing to follow the courses and conferences on the topic, and the headmistress was very much insistent on providing them all with more material so that they can do their best. They all have learned to see the signs, and how to direct their students to places that can provide them with more help. It’s not enough, but it’s a start.

One day, hopefully, their students will be in a good enough place to seek out actual therapy if they need it.

For a moment, Mito doesn’t say anything, sipping at her tea carefully. Then, she puts her tea cup down.

“I’ve been thinking of seeking out something similar,” she tells Tobirama. She clarifies after a beat, “Therapy.”

“Oh?” Tobirama says, a little surprised and concerned. He hadn’t realized she was feeling so down. “May I ask…?”

“Not for me,” Mito tells him, and then smiles thinly. “Well, not quite. I’ve been thinking about couples therapy, for me and Hashirama, to be honest.”

Oh. Tobirama takes a sip of his tea to hide his discomfort.

While it had been clear that the state of Mito and Hashirama’s relationship was deteriorating, he hadn’t realized this was so bad. He’s also not sure he’s the best person to talk to in terms of… love counselling.

He doesn’t exactly have a relationship of his own, does he. Not that he wants one, but that makes him even more unsuited to this sort of talk.

Of course, Mito probably sees right through him - or at least it seems so, because she hums.

“Don’t worry I didn’t ask you to come for advice. It’s more preventive than anything else,” she says. “In truth the one who needs it the most is Hashirama, but I won’t force him to go. However, since this is affecting our marriage, I won’t stand idle either. So, it’s a compromise of sorts.”

That sounds like a good idea to Tobirama, at least, even tho he’s not sure what issues they are facing.

“Is this about Hashirama’s work schedule?” Tobirama asks slowly.

“That’s part of it,” Mito says, and purses her lips. “But it’s been a long time coming, really. Hashirama- forgive me for saying this, Tobirama, but he should have gotten help a long time ago, after the death of your brothers. Especially given his choice in career.”

Tobirama stiffens a little, but then lets out a sigh, looking down at his tea cup.

Well, from one uncomfortable topic to another more upsetting one it is.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” he eventually says. “I agree with you on that part. Hashirama never made his peace.”

“No, he hasn’t,” Mito agrees, something sad pulling at her lips. “I know that it’s his driving motivation for becoming a hero. He wants to save everyone, doesn’t want to let anyone die- and I respect that, I really do. It’s a noble cause. It shouldn’t matter what his motivations for doing it are either, but…”

She trails off, a conflicted look on her face.

Tobirama understands, though. Hashirama likes to pretend his motivations are pure, that he just likes helping people because it’s the right thing to do, but at some point a line must be drawn. There’s a difference between being motivated, even devoted to something, and being _obsessed_ with it.

For Hashirama, ever since Kawarama and Itama were killed in the crossfire of a hero vs villain fight where the hero pulled no punch, as were many other innocent civilians, saving people, saving _everyone_ with no collateral damage has been his driving force. To the point where even ‘obsession’ is not a strong enough word to describe it.

Tobirama doesn’t really get it. Why become a hero, when in the end it was the hero’s negligence, his own power and incompetence, that caused the damage? It’s just illogical, to him. But he respects Hashirama’s choice, even if he doesn’t like it. That’s what he has always done.

For Mito to bring this up again, though, so many years after the actual incident…

“Did Hashirama say something?” Tobirama asks.

“Not exactly,” Mito looks displeased. “He just made a vague mention, to justify himself. But I’m not blind, nor stupid. His fixation with saving people has gotten worse, lately. When Madara-” She ignores the face Tobirama makes at the name with a shake of her head- “got benched, all he could go on about was how it was preventing more lives from being saved, more people from being helped. He didn’t even seem to worry about _Madara_ himself!”

That is worrying. Tobirama frowns. With how much bad publicity Madara has gotten lately, especially with that surprisingly fast reinstatement into his functions that made some less scrupulous tabloids wonder about a possible bribe, he would have expected his brother to be up in arms about the injustice his friend was facing.

Hadn’t he mentioned something about it over the phone the other day?

But no, it only had been mentioned in passing, along with a mention of how busy he was. No outcry for his friend, not even a small rant.

Thinking about it, Tobirama can’t help but agree with Mito.

Hashirama has been getting worse lately, hasn’t he.

“I worry, Tobirama,” Mito finally says. “I just feel like I’m losing him slowly. I’ve always supported his dream of being a hero, but it was never supposed to come between us so often. It wasn’t supposed to eat at him until he’s nothing more than ideals trapped in human skin.” She looks at Tobirama, straightening her back. “I won’t let it cost us our marriage.”

“Of course,” Tobirama says. “You know I support you in this.”

Mito smiles at him. Then shakes her head slightly.

“I know,” she says. “You are a good friend, Tobirama.” She claps her hand. “But enough about this. And about work! Have you found a hobby yet? Something that catches your interest?” Mito arches. “Someone?”

Tobirama snorts.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says. “But as a matter of fact, I’ve been considering some ideas of… things to do for fun, after work. Nothing concrete yet, but I’ll let you know.”

“Oh, how exciting,” Mito says, smiling faintly. “Please do. I hate to be stuck without news.”

“Well with the summer holidays coming up, I will be much more available to meet up, if you wish,” Tobirama offers.

“That sounds nice,” Mito agrees. “In fact…”

Slowly, they start forgetting about the upsetting topics and the realities of their lives, happy to simply talk and banter and catch up. At some point, Mito stands up to go refill the tea pot, leaving Tobirama to wait.

Not in the mood to let his mind wander, given the treacherous topics previously broached, Tobirama grabs the first magazine that he finds under the table, and starts leafing through it.

He’s pleasantly surprised to find an article by that journalist he likes – the one who writes such delightfully scathing articles. There’s a picture of her next to it, and for a moment he pauses, familiarity hitting him.

He narrows his eyes. Where in the world could he have seen Terumi Mei before…?

Oh. She did that interview on TV didn’t she, the one about…

Oh. _Oh._

No. Surely it can’t be this obvious. And yet…

“Something wrong?” Mito asks, coming back with the tea. She smiles, “You’re giving that magazine the evil eye.”

“Ah, no, it’s nothing,” Tobirama says, humming and closing the paper. “Just thinking, you know me. Where were we?”

“We were talking about the abysmal black hole that is your love life,” Mito says primly.

“Oh, for- how many times do I have to tell you…”

 

 

 

Danzou’s house is dark, not a single window letting light out, when Tobirama steps out of his car. Tobirama is used to it, but he can’t help the faint narrowing of his eyes. Danzou melts out of the shadows of his home, his hair and clothes blending in too easily with the dark. Behind him, the door is open, probably letting in a draft, but nothing moves inside.

“Sensei?” Danzo asks him, dragging his attention away from the Shimura house. “I’m surprised you wanted to meet. It’s pretty late.”

“Yes, I apologize. I know you have exams to prepare for,” Tobirama says. “How is that going for you? If you need help-”

“I’m doing fine, sensei,” Danzo says, rolling his eyes.

Tobirama hums. He glances at the dark windows again.

“Your family is away again?” He asks.

Danzo’s expression shutters, growing hard.

“I’m doing fine, sensei,” he says again, but his tone is frigid this time. “You needed my help?”

“Yes,” Tobirama agrees, letting the matter drop. “Or rather, Root’s help.”

“Aa,” Danzo nods, expression relaxing a fraction. “What with?”

“There is a journalist that I like,” Tobirama says, “Her articles are interesting. I’ve done some research." More like he broke into a few offices, and went to stalk a few people discreetly. Boring work, truly. Lots of paperwork to go through. The most interesting part was getting into a governmental office after dark, and dodging a few old men guarding some useless files. "I found what I could on her, but so far what I’ve found is surprisingly clean. A bit _too_ clean.”

“Suspicious, for a journalist,” Danzo says, curiosity starting to make an appearance. He could never leave a mystery alone. “They usually get dragged in dirty things. You want me to investigate? What’s her name?”

“Terumi Mei,” Tobirama says. Pauses and then adds, “While you’re at it, do you still have plants within the hero agencies?”

“Some,” Danzo says. “Do you need information on something else?” He frowns. “I don’t know how much I can find without compromising my agents.”

“No need for that,” Tobirama assures him. “I can do some hunting myself on that part. No, I need information on the general… mood, let’s say, of the agencies. Mito said some things that got me thinking, but so far nothing out of the ordinary showed up in the paperwork or their databases.”

“So you want me to hunt down rumours,” Danzo understands. He nods, already taking out his phone. His eyes are starting to glow slightly golden. “I can do that.”

“Don’t overdo it,” Tobirama reminds him. “You _do_ have exams soon. Those take priority.”

Danzo hums, and nods, but it’s distracted. He’s already texting people and perusing whatever platform he usually uses to get in touch with his agents. When he turns around, Tobirama sighs and reaches out to prevent him from walking face first into a pole.

“Have you eaten already?” He asks when Danzo doesn't even twitch.

“Erm, no?” Danzo says, absently, eyes still staring at his screen and letting Tobirama steer him along.

“I hope you don’t mind me using your kitchen, then,” Tobirama says.

“Cupboards are empty,” Danzo tells him, clearly not paying attention to what he’s telling him. “I don’t have the money to grocery shop.”

Tobirama looks to the sky. One day, Danzo’s parents are going to have an accident, and no one will be able to trace it back to him. He'll get Kagami and Torifu to help. Hell, maybe Hiruzen would agree to drop by and forget his morals for a second to help them fake a car accident or something. Koharu certainly would - and she'd no doubt be able to help them get some life insurance for Danzo out of it.

Unfortunately, this would be a terrible distraction for Danzo. So for now, it'll have to remain a fantasy, kept to the back of Tobirama's mind.

“Fine,” he sighs. “I’ll order pizza.”

Danzo’s only reply is another distracted hum.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Even just a quick word always makes my day, and if you need clarification I'd be happy to reply when I can!  
> Please do not demand an update. I'll update when I'll update.  
> Find me (and some art for this au) on tumblr as diggingfordragons!


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